Sympathy For The Devil
by ghost3142
Summary: Proactive villains. A Shadow playing for keeps. Izanami mad. Souji lives up to his memetic reputation as a charismatic badass. An OC (urrgh, what a dirty word) whose life I gleefully make a living hell of. Everyone gets a moment of awesome. Haiku hidden in summary. Interested? Then let's go.
1. Chapter 1

Inaba is my prison. It confined me just as securely as any cell. The judge, in his eminent mercy, threw me here instead of some juvenile rehab center. Don't take me wrong, I considered myself damned lucky. The wages of attempted fraud are grave. Most would have gotten jail time at least, especially considering the circumstances under which I had been caught. To have escaped that, and be given a chance to start anew... It was a chance to start again that not many people got.

Too bad Inaba was simply a town of prison wardens.

My story reads like any good Charles Dickens novel. Hero grows up an orphan, falls in with some unsavoury characters, gets caught and is sent back into the care of upstanding members of society. Except, Oliver and Pip ended up with social mobility and a happy ending. Not exile to the countryside and a black mark to my name that I couldn't wash off. No self-respecting high-school or employer would touch me with a meter long stick. Japan can be cruel like that.

Still, I don't regret my stint in the underbelly of society, though I certainly wished I'd never had to enter it. A boy on the run has to eat somehow, and after the orphanage closed down and the rest of the kids were dispersed to various homes, there weren't a lot of places unwanted runts like Keiichi and I could go. Keiichi was this brash kid who made all the wrong decisions for all the right reasons. He was genuinely a good guy, but was pretty much destined to a lifetime of troublemaking. And as the older one, even by only three months, I got saddled with trying to keep him out of it.

That was what I learned in the orphanage; to look out for your friends, and trust that they would too. As everybody's rejects, all we had left to rely on were each other.

Which is why I had chased after him when he ran off, the night before the social workers had arrived to take us away. All the while, he kept yelling about refusing to get transferred to another orphanage, or get bounced around foster homes again. Really, I could see his point, but he was just so stubborn about it, that I decked him out of pure frustration. Not my smartest decision. He wasn't younger by much, and he was built like a gorilla. He got up quickly and floored me just as fast.

"Follow me, _aniki_," That idiot had said. "Follow me, Saito. I'm strong. And you're always reading those books, yeah? And books make you smart. So you gotta be smart! Then we'll make billions of yen. We'll make our own home. We'll have a big car and a big house, with lotsa pretty maids in it and a garden with that…that bamboo-water thing that goes *doink*…like proper rich folks! Then ain't nobody ever gonna take us where we don't want to anymore! Nobody's gonna tell us 'Pack you things, boy' and send us off again! So you gotta come too! You don't have to go off on your own, we'll get rich together!" Toji had ranted breathlessly, arms flailing about. It was a dark night, but even I could have heard the shit-eating grin in his voice.

So I followed him. Someone had to look after the 14 year old idiot. His vision of wealth came straight out of _manga_, he didn't even know what a _shishi-odoshi_ was, and by god, I wasn't going to miss out on the maids he'd promised. Look out for your friends, right? I couldn't leave him on his own.

If I had, I would have been alone too, my final semblance of a family lost forever in the wind. I didn't want to admit it back then. Not until it was a little too late. Not until it was far too bitter to swallow the awful epiphany.

So, a fat lot of good I did for him in the end.

* * *

"Kurosawa! Are your listening to me?"

I snapped out of my thoughts and quickly stood to attention. Poised at the front of the classroom, hands stuffed into his pockets, my ethics teacher was giving me a moody death glare.

"Yes Mr. Morooka. Hanging on every word, sir." I gave a smile in chagrin. I knew if I didn't play my cards right, this could get ugly.

"Yeah? Well, it damn sure looked like you weren't. You looked like you were daydreaming about something! Wanna share what's so much more interesting than class, Kurosawa?" he drawled.

Nice try, but the trick here is to neither answer the question, nor rebut the accusation.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was just trying to figure out the lesson. I'm having trouble keeping up, you see?" I looked down, rubbing the back of my neck and basically tried to act the role of an embarrassed and not-too-bright student. Most would have left it at that.

Not him.

He sneered. "Figures. Troublemakers like you are only good for making trouble. You got no business going to school, mooching off society's charity, trying to "turn over a new leaf". A leopard will never change its spots, and a criminal scum is always a criminal scum. Tch. Just my luck to have to put up with a no-good delinquent. And a stupid one too."

I succeeded in keeping the strain away from my false smile. My hands, however, clenched hard into fists on the tabletop. I focus on some other feature. Anything to distract me.

To call Morooka buck-toothed was an understatement. It was more like his teeth unilaterally decided to double as a moustache and grew out of his mouth. I kept my eyes on it, watching it bob up and down as he enthusiastically ranted on and on.

I wondered what sound teeth that big would make as they shattered under a crowbar.

Tension eased from my jaw. My hands were still paralyzed into tight fists, though.

Keep cool Saito. You've handled hairier stuff than this before.

Eventually, the red faded from my gaze. Morooka's ranting dissolved into sonic wallpaper in the background. I pretended to pay attention, while observing the rest of the classroom.

The kids listened on silently. Moron's ranting is a pretty typical thing, but apparently, he's gotten worse since I've entered. He's gotten more venomous, less subtle and less tolerant. In the same breath he had used to introduce me, he had also announced to the whole class that their new classmate was a convicted delinquent, and that if they knew what they were doing, they would steer the hell away from me or be dragged down into a life of troublemaking.

Sad thing is, unpopular as his opinion usually was, this time the class accepted it.

No sympathetic gestures, no signs of discomfort at Morooka's bullying. Just tacit approval that today, he had picked on an acceptable target.

I bit and held on to my tongue, still maintaining that painful smile.

Bastards.

Bastard King Moron.

* * *

Moron ran out of steam when the bell eventually rang. Irritably dismissing the class, he stalked out of the room, while the students quickly erupted into relieved conversation. I lowered myself gingerly into my seat, the back of my knees aching from standing throughout the long rant. Breathing a long sigh and packing my things, I didn't notice a classmate approach me.

"Um, excuse me, Kurosawa-san?"

I gazed up at the unsure voice. Yukiko Amagi stood with her hands behind her back and her eyes down. Behind her, a protective Chie Satonaka backed her up, agitatedly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Yes Amagi-san?" I was surprised by my hoarseness, although it complemented the agitated mood I was still in. I cleared my throat to relief the tightness.

Her eyes darted up from the ground as she prepared to say something. Whatever it was, it got stuck in her throat for a while, her mouth gaping open as silent non-words escaped. She quickly looked back down and swallowed, finding her voice again.

C'mon, did I really scare them that much?

Oh yeah, convicted delinquent. How could I forget?

"I-I'm…sorry that you had to put up with Mr. Morooka. He's...usually not that bad."

I blinked in surprise.

I studied her. As in, really took her in seriously for the first time. Dressed in red, with long black hair and a dignified (if nervous) stance, Miss Amagi looked every bit the heiress that she was. Not exactly rich, but she was one of the few lucky enough to have been raised in privilege, history and tradition. A long shot from a lot of the rich snobs I've seen in my time in Tokyo, loud and obnoxious types who paraded down Ginza. No, Amagi was a proper lady. A real Yamato Nadeshiko.

Which was not a little jarring compared to her best friend standing behind.

Chie Satonaka was a tomboy. A kungfu worshipping, Bruce-Lee-imitating lad-ette with a strange penchant for green fashion and a terrific appetite for red meat. Even now, she was a bundle of compact energy, barely contained under bouncing brown hair and restless long legs.

My eyes shifted back to the apologetic girl in front of me. I could read unease and embarrassment from her little micro expressions, but at the same time, genuine remorse, not just in her body language, but also in the tone she had used.

Huh. What d'ya know?

I relaxed, and gave a sincere, grateful smile. Seriously, I did. It was the first friendly gesture I've received from my classmates since I entered four months ago.

"Thank you. You didn't have to apologize though, it's hardly your fault."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. We thought it was okay, since he picked on everyone, and we could all just put up with it like we always do. But today, he was…" Amagi hesitated to find the right words.

"Vicious?" I offered.

"Yes. I think—well, Chie and I think, that Mr. Morooka went too far," she said, nodding her head.

"Yeah! He was totally picking on you! I mean, that's not fair at all, and umm…you looked _really_ mad just now, just standing there smiling and taking it."

I observed the brunette who had exclaimed suddenly. She had stepped forward and stood beside Amagi. Satonaka looked as if she had been bottling that up for a while, and releasing it had also given her an outlet for all that nervous energy.

I addressed her with a grimace. "Well, it's not as if he hasn't been doing that since I came in. Guess my temper must be slipping if others are _finally_ noticing."

Amagi visibly winced (It was even an elegant wince too) at that last part, but Satonaka had gotten on her horse and wasn't about to get down any time soon.

"Yeah, you were sooo tensed up, like you were going to open a can of whoopass on him. Like Bruce Lee staring down some thugs, then HWATAA snap kick him into the desk or something." She stopped and scratched her chin nervously. "Eh heh heh, but your face was so calm. Like nothing he said got to you at all. It was…kinda scary Kurosawa-san. Everything else was screaming kungfu fighting time, but you just kept on smiling…"

I wasn't expecting Satonaka, of all people, to have seen through me. Then again, perhaps it's because of her martial arts background? She probably recognises when a person's body is ready to lash out to visit violence. The set of the shoulders, the paleness of the skin as blood left the surface and flooded the muscles, the unnatural stillness…

"Wow Satonaka-san, should I feel flattered that you were observing me that closely?" I grinned and winked.

She flustered as she stamped her foot. "Wha-whaat? I-I was just saying it like I saw it. Ahahaha…"

That drew a short laugh from me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that. But yes, King Moron really got under my skin just now. He certainly charmed me with his warm and friendly personality."

Satonaka laughed while Amagi giggled at the sarcasm. Tension defused, I hoped. It's a basic trick I learned to get people to lower their guard around me. A well-timed joke can ease hostility and build rapport, especially when it's at the expense of a common enemy.

Was I trying to scam them? No. I was simply applying my old skills to get some allies.

To get some friends again.

The spunky brunette held out a hand. "You know, you don't seem like the bad sort, Kurosawa-san. Call me Chie-chan from now on, okay?"

Amagi nodded politely and joined in. "Please, feel free to call me Yukiko-chan as well. Amagi-san sounds more like something a guest would address my mother."

I grasped Satonaka's—no Chie's hand, and gave it the customary single, strong shake. "Then both of you can use my first name too. I look forward our time together."

Smiles all around. Ladies and gentlemen, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

The month passed quickly. Yukiko and Chie were still cautious at first, but eventually warmed up when I didn't prove to be some kind of psycho _yakuza_ enforcer out to shank them with a rusty spoon. It didn't hurt that I deliberately projected the image of a friendly, trustworthy and guileless sort of guy. Another legacy of a gutter rat. The old hands taught me to play the part of a meek high-school kid, and so I danced to that tune while taking money off the gullible.

Another bonus was that I didn't have to slice off any part of my finger. Dead giveaway, that. I liked being able to clench things properly, thank you very much.

Yukiko proved to be more than just a simple heiress. She was also hilariously weird, thanks to her obliviousness. Part of it was due to her sheltered upbringing, but a lot of it also stemmed from her natural shyness and consequent lack of social experience. The girl had little understanding of male-female teenage relationships, evidenced by the long trail of broken hearts and shattered male egos she left strewn throughout Yasogami High School. All of which she was, of course, blissfully unaware of.

"Yukiko's just like that, I guess," Chie had said, consoling the thirteenth(?) boy who tried to ask her out. "She wouldn't hurt a fly on purpose, so she didn't mean anything bad turning you down, okay? Just be a man, and walk it off!" She grinned and thumped her chest, trying to console the rather inconsolable kid.

He followed the "walk it off" part of the advice just fine. The manly part might have been asking too much of him though.

Chie sighed, listening to the retreating sobs in the background. "Hey Saito, that's the third one this month. How come so many guys are lining up to fess up to Yukiko, but you haven't yet? Any secret passions I ought to know about?" She grinned while nudging my side.

"Not really. I'm just not into chasing girls, I guess."

"Woah! Are you trying to say you…err, don't swing that way?"

I let Chie feel the full weight of my very-not-amused gaze. It's a very expressive thing, that gaze. It bespoke of disapproval, dude-not-funny and no-more-steak-for-you-missy.

She laughed nervously and backed off. I thought I heard her muttering something about rusty spoons under her breath. I relented and let her off.

"Look, I'll try tell you what I told all the guys who asked before; I don't have time for boy-girl relationships. Sure, we're all growing young men, but I just don't let the hormones get in control."

"Hmmm, kinda like mind over matter, huh?"

I shrug, "You could say that."

Chie slowly nodded, "Like those Shaolin monks I guess? Not letting the body control what you do, ignore pain and stuff like that."

I was thinking more along the lines of Bene Gesserit, but okay, that works too.

"Hey! Saito! I know! Can you head-butt a concrete slab? Or—or catch a cannonball with your stomach?"

That gaze seems to be in frequent demand these days.

* * *

It was refreshing; joking, messing around and dealing with mundane problems. Before I had ran off, I had managed to attend and graduate from middle-school, which I remembered fondly. It was nice being back in school, especially a rural one like Yasogami High. The kids here aren't like those in Tokyo. They weren't so obsessed with the latest modern trends. Except Ai Ebihara. She was so stereotypical alpha-female it wasn't even funny. Some, like the jocks Daisuke and Kou, were genuinely okay people in my book, despite the disconcerting rumours of Kou's fetish for basketballs.

As you can see, hanging out with Chie and Yukiko has done wonders to my social life in school. Now, I can actually claim to be friendly acquaintances with some of my schoolmates.

I said my goodbyes to Chie, who had to go retrieve Yukiko from the faculty office and walk her home. Eventually, I found myself walking alone across the Samegawa floodplain.

The quiet countryside magnified the sound of my footsteps. Here, the remoteness, the stark, empty skies, the feeling of sheer isolation grinded down on me. The crazy temp of Tokyo seemed so far away, like it never existed in the first place. Maddening silence echoed in ears long accustomed to the senseless bustle of a city. The fresh country air carried a hint of the staleness, the static, the immobility to life here.

My mood gradually turned more somber, as I remember my prevailing thought since arriving here.

Inaba is my prison. It's a dead end, a resting place for the old and dying. They totter about and struggle to remain relevant in a society that has left them behind. The young ones old enough to leave have already done so, seeking fortunes elsewhere, while the old ones…well, I've seen how the locals trapped here live. Like old man Daidara, wasting away in the boonies, living each day the same way he lived the previous one. Year after year passes, trapped in the same old town, in the same old shop, in the same old job, doing the same old things. No child, no spouse, no family. Just waiting for the day he goes to sleep and never wakes up again.

And guess who ended up waltzing in to join him? Apparently, he's one of those misguided souls who volunteered to rehabilitate juvenile delinquents like yours truly. I would have laughed in his face, except it was butt ugly and had a pair of scars crisscrossing it, so I wisely abstained. Besides, he spends most of his day angrily banging a hammer against red hot steel, on top of an abused anvil in between his nuts, so this was not someone to mess around with.

Fine by me, I could live with this guy, see what he wants. I didn't want anything to do with the underworld anymore. I thought I could leave it behind, make a fresh start, start living properly again.

I started looking for a job on the first day I arrived. Six months later, I still haven't found anyone willing to hire yet, not even the overworked Junes supermarket. It took the judge's orders and old man Daidara literally staring down the school governors for me to even enter Yasogami High. The locals, desperate for any new gossip, pounced on my history, sensationalizing it to new heights. Accomplice became perpetrator; fraud became assault, assault became homicide. Didn't it occur just how ridiculous that was? No judge was going to let a murderer loose, not even kids eligible under the juvenile category. It didn't matter to them though, it just sounded better and more interesting, so why let the truth stand in the way of a perfectly good story?

Once again, I was reminded that the sheep of the world were blind, blinkered and dumber than a bag of hammers.

* * *

"I'm home!"

Old man Daidara looked up from his newsletter and grunted in greeting. I spared a glance around the shop, looking for any customers. Not surprisingly, no one was around. Honestly, selling weapons in the countryside… The only people here are folks so old, the last time they swung a katana was at actual samurais, or young kids who would put it to less than legal use.

Maybe the old man's business ended up fueling his charity?

"How's yer day been?" asked the old man.

Shrug.

"Not much. Another guy confessed to Yukiko today. Chie and I had to stay back a while to deal with the fallout."

"Hmph. I always said the Amagi girl would grow up to be a heartbreaker."

I found no reason to refute that astoundingly acute observation. He lapsed back into silence and returned to his reading, which I took as a sign that I'd been dismissed. That was a pretty accurate microcosm of our interactions so far. He would provide some token display of guardianship, then shut up and let me run off to do my own thing.

I didn't get him at all. Maybe he wanted company. Maybe he was atoning for some kind of mistake. Maybe he was just some creepy old pervert. Lord knows, the world has no shortage of those sorts. Whatever it was, I just couldn't figure out what he was getting out of this deal, and that bugged me. For the yakuza that adopted me, it was for the income I could bring in. For the judge, it was probably for the feel-good publicity he got, showing mercy to a street urchin in front of the media. No one, no self-respecting person on this planet, did anything for free. Second thing I learned in the orphanage. So it bugged me that I couldn't figure out old man Daidara's motive. Like they say, it's the stuff you don't know that comes around to bite you, and the old man was one big pile of don't-bloody-know to me.

* * *

I changed and went out in the evening. It was my turn to make the dinner run, and I walked over to Junes. We'd already eaten Aiya's yesterday.

Hmm…sushi or boxed bento?

"Hi! Can I help you?"

I turned around. It's a friend of sorts from my class, Yosuke Hanamura.

He recognized my face when I turned to face him, and we both broke into a friendly grin.

"Eating out again, Saito?"

"Yep. You know the old man and I can't cook to save our lives."

"Haha! I guess that's what happens when you have two bachelors living together. All you have to forward to is an endless line of take-outs and instant ramen."

"I guess that must make me your most loyal customer. Can I get a discount?"

"Is that extortion, Saito? I could call security in here and have your delinquent butt kicked out in a flash."

Aaand…this is one of the problems I have with him. He makes the most tasteless jokes at the expense of other's issues. I know it's not in mean spirit, but it still stung, having a sort-of friend remind you of your place.

"You want to explain to old man Daidara why you detained his charge on baseless accusations? Or worse, why you delayed his dinner?"

Its petty, but I savor Yosuke's grimace.

"Dude, not funny! That guy scares me. His face looks like a _namahage_ mask, all red and frowning. I can just imagine him stalking around going, "Who's a little crybaby? Who's been naughty?" He'd have kids crying and running away all over town."

"You're scared of him. Who's the little crybaby now?"

We banter back and forth. It's a slow day, so he helps me scan my bento boxes at the cashier counter. If ever there was someone who could take my place as Inaba's public-enemy-number-one, he was it. The son of the Junes' manager, he was an easy target for those whose pointless, monotonous lives were interrupted by the invader. Generally, this consists of local shop keepers blaming Junes for stealing business, old folks complaining about anything modern and therefore, unfamiliar and automatically wrong, and housewives whining about the lower qualities of groceries. All of the vitriol got focused on the hapless fellow.

So what does the guy do? Roll over, whine and wallow in self-pity? Nope.

He mans up, throws himself into helping his dad in the supermarket and tries to help his school mates get jobs. That's how I got to know him. He helped submit my job application, and put in a few good words. Unfortunately, the-powers-that-be in Junes had made it a policy not to hire those with a previous record. He came back thoroughly apologetic and slightly apprehensive. I think he was afraid I would take it out on him.

Eventually, the subject turns to the kid who confessed to Yukiko today. Yosuke seems unusually interested. I can tell he's not merely curious, and my gut tells me he might attempt the Amagi challenge soon.

I swear, it's like some kind of silly rite-of-passage in Yasogami High.

"So, errr…Saito?" He says, hesitantly handing me my groceries.

"…how do I put this? You, hang out with Yukiko-san a lot right?"

I knew it. That train's never late. I nod and wait for him to continue.

The words spill out from his mouth messily. "W-What do you think she likes? Like flowers? Or chocolates? Or plush toys? I mean, NOT that I'm going to get her anything, it's just, y'know hypothetically, if I WERE to get her something and I wanted it to be something she liked, what would it be?"

I pretend to contemplate it deeply. Stroke my chin, look up into the ceiling, breathe in deep and slow…the whole routine. Yosuke stares at me anxiously. With great ceremony, I nod and come to a decision.

I might owe him a favor, but this was something I couldn't help at all.

Taking the bag of groceries from him, I reply, "I don't know. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

I walk away before I give in to the temptation to look back at his reaction.


	3. Chapter 3

November for those in Yasogami High meant the bite of winter and the tension of exams in the air. After school, a few harried students would rush off to the now constantly crowded library. I was just as devoted to studying, but I preferred to join Chie in picking Yukiko's brain at the Junes food court. Now and then, Chie would enforce a break, whether it was to wolf down another plate of steak skewers, or to stretch her cramped limbs through various martial art moves. It was during one of these breaks, that the subject of Yosuke's ill-fated confession had come up.

Sure enough, Yosuke Hanamura, the Amagi-challenged, had attempted the Amagi challenge.

And so, thirteen turned to fourteen.

He was quite gracious of the rejection, joking that he had been expecting it anyway, and that even if she had accepted, he wouldn't know what to do after that. No plans for a first date, no follow-up line, no long term intentions.

I gave him full marks for effort though. He had offered chocolates. And flowers. And a Jack Frost plush toy. It was a valiant, if ham-fisted, attempt at covering all his bases, worthy of applause. Besides, I'd dearly loved to have seen the resulting fireworks from such a Romeo-and-Juliet pairing.

I shared my secret rooting for Yosuke's success to Chie.

She laughed uproariously. "Oh man, I can just imagine!" Continuing with a faux movie-trailer voice, "The scion of the wealthy empire of Junes! In love with the heiress of the traditional Amagi clan! Will the flames of their forbidden love prevail? Or will it be gutted, by the flames of war roaring through the Inaba countryside?" Chie dissolved into a giggling fit while slapping her thighs.

"I liked how he tried holding on to all his gifts. When he tried to shake her hand, he got so confused and panicky because he couldn't find a free hand."

Chie could hardly breathe at this point. "Yeah! And then he had this expression, like he had the most brilliant idea in the world! Then he kneeled down, got on his knees, and kissed the back of her hand!"

"I loved the look of dawning, horrified comprehension on Yosuke's face after that."

"_**I**_ loved the look of the palm print Yukiko left on his face after that! I thought you could only make that meaty thwack sound in movies!"

"…I swear my hand just moved on its own."

We continued ignoring the furiously blushing Yukiko. We make it a point not to laugh at rejected suitors, but this was a truly one-of-a-kind thing Chie and I couldn't miss. I picked out another chocolate from the box. Mmmm, mint filling. Yosuke certainly didn't hold back.

While the Chie and I vicariously enjoyed the spoils, Yukiko spoke up.

"I don't understand. Why did he have to buy chocolates just for a study session? Did he want to eat them while we studied? Then…what were the flowers for?"

Chie guffawed. "Study session? Yeah…right"

"Yukiko, Yosuke was trying to ask you out. The chocolates were a gift, a sign of his affection. The flowers were supposed to draw a parallel towards his attraction to your beauty and that of the flowers." I explained slowly. It wasn't the same as actual first-hand experience, but maybe I could teach her some social mores and encourage her to get out more.

The confused heiress frowned and pursed her lips. "And the Jack Frost plushie?"

"He thought you would like something cute. It was an offering to please you and to buy favor. A bribe, if you will."

See, that's what two years of cynically learning and applying the intricacies of bribing and gifting does to a young, impressionable mind.

Yukiko slowly nodded. "So when he said "study session"—"

"-He actually meant he wanted to score with you!" Chie interrupted.

"T-That can't be true! Hanamura-san isn't that sort of person."

Given the frequency of its target these days, I'm considering naming this gaze my Sa-DON'T-naka Gaze.

I reassured Yukiko, while Chie retreated, that no, Yosuke wasn't a pervert (any more than the next guy), he wasn't trying to score (yet) and that he was, indeed, an upstanding member of society (despite frequent lapses). It was the least I could do for him.

* * *

While we were joking, a senior I recognized, dressed in the Junes staff uniform, approached our table to clear some of the empty trays.

"Thanks, Konishi-senpai." I stacked and handed them to her. I used to wait on tables, back when I could still get a job and I needed something legal to supplement my income. Ever since, I always went out of my way to be nice to service staff.

"You're welcome. Good afternoon, everyone." the wavy-haired girl smiled and replied.

Chie was surprised at her presence. "Wow, senpai, don't you have exams to study for? Why're you taking a part-time job now?"

Yikes. I intercepted this.

"There's nothing wrong with that, Chie. I've got a job lined up too, and I can still find time to study. Yukiko helps out in the inn a lot, and she still gets the highest grades in class all the time."

While my brunette friend expressed her disbelief at our habits, Konishi gave me a grateful smile and short nod. Old man Daidara, being the versatile craftsman that he was, sometimes did pottery work on old liquor jars for the Konishi liquor stall, so I was aware that they were starting to lose business. With her younger brother studying in his important final year of middle school, it fell to Saki to help supplement the family income. Of course, that put her in the awkward position of working for her family's perceived enemy, something which was really difficult to explain to strangers.

We might have avoided a Romeo and Juliet scenario, but theatrics were always around the corner.

"I'll just bring these trays back, then. If you'll excuse me." Konishi took the opportunity to bow out and escape.

"See you in school tomorrow, senpai." Yukiko then turned to me. "Saito-kun, I didn't know you'd found a job. Congratulations! What are you working as?"

"I'm sort of a handyman for the local broadcast station. I'm supposed to install and repair TV aerials."

"Isn't that dangerous? Won't there be a lot of climbing around on people's rooftops?"

"Yeah, but that's how I ended up with the job. They were looking for young and fit guys to fill the part-time position because of the physical demands. Thing is, there're not a lot of young guys left in the countryside. And then, since there were far less dangerous jobs around, not a lot of guys wanted it. In the end, the station got desperate, so they had no choice but to hire me."

"But aren't you too young to be doing as risky as that?"

I smiled. "Actually, I'll be eighteen by January next year. So by the time I finish my training and start climbing rooftops, I'll be old enough."

"Wow…" Chie intoned, chewing her last skewer. "You got guts, Saito. Why don't you just work at Daidara's? I mean, other people might not want to hire you, but he's your guardian, right? If you asked, I'm sure he'd let you."

I scowled and leaned back. Sure, it'd be a lot safer than this job, but I had many reasons. I didn't want to keep living off him, sinking deeper into dependence. Besides, in the eleven months since I've lived with him, he hasn't taught me a thing about smithing. Obviously, he wasn't looking for a successor.

While I was musing on what to say, Yukiko unexpectedly caught my hand. Startled, I jerked my head to look at her. She was wearing this serious and earnest expression, staring straight into me as if about to impart some crucial life lesson.

"Saito-kun. Please, be careful. Don't fall off a roof and hurt yourself. You're still young, and have a long life ahead of you. Don't throw it all away in some careless accident."

She loomed in further, eyes widening.

"And remember, Saito-kun. Don't. Startle. Any. Birds."

"Eh?"

"I saw this horror movie once. The heroine was walking along a ledge to escape the killer, and then she came across a nest of birds on the roof. Suddenly, they flew into her face, she lost her footing and then fell forty stories to the street below! Her head split open like a watermelon, and there was blood everywhere! Then the killer just looked out the window and laughed…"

Briefly, I had the terrifying image of a long-haired and vengeful ghost, climbing out of a television screen jerkily. I thanked the heavens that I would never live to see Yukiko emulate Sadako in real life.

"T-thanks Yukiko. I'll…er, be sure to look out for them."

The terrifying, raven-haired, spectral form smiled and quickly sat back down. "I'm glad to hear that. I would be very upset if a friend of mine was injured."

Chie looked strangely at Yukiko, but was otherwise miraculously unfazed by all this. "Don't worry, I know Saito's good on his feet. He'll be all over those rooftops like a _ninja_. Have you seen his moves Yukiko? Fast! Lemme tell you about the time I asked him to show me a groin kick…"

Our conversation trailed on.

* * *

Exams came and went. While Yukiko beat me to get top position in the exams, I was simply happy that my runner-up position shut Mr. Morooka up for a while. Spending three years on the streets lends someone invaluable perspective as to the value of a good education. I had thrown myself into studying far more fervently than the average student, and the effort had paid off. I think he might have seen me giving him a really evil smirk, but I wiped it off my face when he turned around to check again.

He stalked off mumbling about cheaters never prospering.

Crowbar. Teeth. Then rinse and repeat. My smirk threatened to return.

Yosuke's confession seemed to have broken the ice between him and our group. Occasionally, he would join in on our conversations, and since Yukiko never mentioned the incident again, we let him off the hook. He contributed to the book-dumb smart-ass factor, complaining about the exams and mouthing the usual male teenage one-liners. He didn't really become fast friends with Chie and Yukiko, but he was still invited to any outings we had.

In terms of getting close to Yukiko, I suppose he held the dubious honor of being the most successful failure so far.

School soon closed for the winter holidays, and I wasted no time concentrating on the job training. I would cycle down to Okina city and follow some of the old hands as they did their rounds. With the oncoming snowfall, they promised me that things would get busy soon. There were still many people who didn't use cable or satellite television in Inaba, so I could look forward to servicing quite a lot of TV aerials.

One thing I had not foreseen was just how cold it could get. I was aware of the snow, of the lower temperatures in the country, but as a city boy I was still unprepared for just how frigid it could get. With only my threadbare army-surplus jacket and fingerless mitts, I could still feel the frost in the air. Any winter breeze that bit into me, reminded me of the sensation of jack knifes piercing my flesh.

Still, it was the only job I've had for eleven months, and I refused to let the cold get to me. Maybe if I saved up enough money from the job, I could get a new jacket. In the meantime, I'd just keep sewing and patching up any holes that appear and survive with it.

At the end of my twelfth month since arrest, some case officer came down to check up on me. Old man Daidara gave a gruff appraisal of my progress, reassuring her that yes, I was coming along well, no I wasn't involved in any criminal activities, no I wasn't displaying anti-social behavior, and so on and so forth. He even got a bit preachy about how he had to raise a storm in front of the Yasogami school governors just to get me enrolled. She just nodded, checked a few boxes, gave me a verbal pat on the head and left without any further word.

As far as everyone else was concerned, Saito Kurosawa was doing just peachy.

* * *

Two months later, balanced precariously on a snow slick roof, I begged to differ.

Fumbling with the screwdriver, I tried to control the trembling as I inserted another metal plate to secure the satellite. As predicted, the weight of the snow had toppled the old antenna that used to be here. As per company policy, I asked the old lady from Marukyu Tofu if she wanted to replace it with a satellite. She smiled and gave an affirmative, then, much to my surprise and amusement, started asking me which channels showed idol dramas and music videos.

In the back of my mind, I pictured the dotty old grandmother in her sweats, towel around her forehead, trying to follow the energetic dance moves and mouthing preppy, pop idol lines.

Chuckling to myself, I checked the dish again. I wanted to get this done quickly and get out of the cold, but professional pride made me stay to check anyway. If I demanded standards even back when I was running scams, I was damn well going to stick to those principles now that I was legally employed. Satisfied, I climbed back down the ladder, where Mrs. Marukyu was waiting.

"Are you fine, young man? Those clothes hardly seem thick enough to keep you warm in this weather." She asked in grandmotherly concern.

Smiling and dusting off the snow stuck in my mitts, I replied, "I'm okay, m'am. Kurosawa was built strong and tough, but sadly, easy to fall to the charms of pretty ladies like yourself."

She laughed with all the coquettish manner an elderly woman like herself could summon. We both knew I wasn't serious, but what lady didn't like being flattered anyway. I laid it on thick for her, mostly because she was one of the few customers who kept an eye on me out of concern for my safety, rather than worrying that I might slip through a window and steal something like the criminal that I was.

I got that a lot. Small town, big mouths.

"Here young man, take home some _agedash_i tofu with you. I've just fried them, so have them while they're hot. And take some home to Daidara, that old dear. There's more than enough for both of you."

I thanked her and packed my toolbox, making the obligatory laments about how our time together was too short, about how I couldn't possibly compete for her affections with the rugged manliness of old man Daidara. She enjoyed it in good fun, and shooed me away, advising me to go home and enjoy the holidays like any young man should.

She was right. The _agedashi_ tofu kept me warm, long after its taste had faded from my mouth.


	4. Chapter 3 and a Half

Inaba is always abuzz with rumors. It seems an unavoidable fact of slow paced country living; people need something to fill in the long stretches of empty dullness. My story was old news and worn to the ground already, but like any good boogeyman story, occasionally gets recycled whenever I turn up. Which was why I was perversely glad when something like the Yamano-Namatame affair came around. Such a sensational scandal took all the attention off me.

The story is well-known already, so I'll just cover the important bits. He was a council secretary. She was a newscaster. He went down to arrange news coverage for a press conference. She met him at the news station. Sparks flew, they hit it off. His high profile wife found out, then his boss, then her boss, and if not for some loose lips somewhere along the line, so did the paparazzi. The next day, the tabloids related tales of sordid stories and scandalous speculations not suitable for the minds of minors. All this drama would have passed over the sleepy little town, had it not been for the latest rumor.

Miss Yamano was taking refuge in the Inaba's very own Amagi Inn.

Yukiko was inevitably swamped with incessant questions from the kids in Yasogami High. She refused to say anything. Only the dimmest couldn't read that as an inadvertent affirmative. The poor girl didn't have a lying bone in her, even if she did try to stay above all the mess. Chie and I helped deflect those too stubborn to give up, me with my reputation and glare, Chie with her liberal and enthusiastic application of nut shots.

It was a close tie between who was the more effective deterrent, though I vastly preferred her method.

Yukiko did privately confide in us that her parents had strictly forbidden her from mentioning anything, which I thought was a really self-defeating idea. Nonetheless, we promised not to speak of it in Yukiko's presence, causing Chie to refer to the affair in increasing vague terms such as "that thing", "y'know-what" and my personal favorite "the Yayumi Mamano thingy". I had a lot of fun faking ignorance and enjoying her flustered attempts at dissembling, while Yukiko sank deeper into embarrassment and pretending she hadn't already caught on four euphemisms ago.

* * *

I confirmed the rumor for myself later that day, when Mr. Kaijou told me to meet Detective Dojima at the Amagi Inn for a semi-hush-hush job for the police. For all the suspicion I held of the police force, I still thought of Detective Ryoutaro Dojima as a solid sort of guy in my books. The man was a widower, a father, and one of the most professional officers I've met. Maybe a little too professional though. For a single father, I've observed him spending far too much time in the station. I suspect I might see him more often during my routine reporting in than his little girl does. Curiosity led me to conduct a simple perusal through the local library's newspaper archives, revealing the cause of Dojima's widowhood.

Was he avoiding home due to guilt? Was the daughter a painful reminder of the wife he had lost so suddenly? I had neither the time nor stomach to ponder on the man's psyche, so I simply filed it away as usual. He treated me fairly, handling me with a mix of appropriate caution and rare open-mindedness. I had no intentions of paying it back by nosing into his painful history.

I met Dojima just outside the back entrance to the Amagi Inn. As I walked up to him, I already had a vague inkling what this would be about.

"Good evening, Officer Dojima," I greeted with a customary bow.

"Ah, Kurosawa-san, just in time. Did you bring your tools?"

"Yes sir, fully kitted out." I lifted my work bag and petted it, eliciting a dull clanking sound.

"That's good. Now before you go in, you need to know a few things first…"

"Let me guess. A certain newscaster, seeking refuge from the media backlash, is hiding out in a certain prestigious inn, and any information I come across is to be kept strictly confidential, on pain of prosecution or some other unofficial way to make my already precarious life difficult."

Dojima's eyebrows arched, but to his credit, he didn't say anything. It's exceedingly petty, but policemen always brought out the smartarse in me. Still, out of respect for him, I refrained from naming names. He grunted and folded his arms.

"Well then Sherlock, what do you think you're here for? Other than simply repeating _rumors_ my neighbors have been spreading."

"Not a clue, sir," I smiled. See? Insufferable smartarse.

"Humor me," he ordered testily.

I shrugged. "I really don't know. I'm guessing you want me to check for…bugs? Wiretaps? From stalkers or other weirdoes? Maybe some unethical reporter trying to get an inside scoop?"

Doujima grinned, correcting me. "Not quite. We need you to isolate the phone line of a specific room, and allow us to install a tap to listen in on it."

"Don't you have police technicians to do that?"

"Not really. This is Inaba, not the Tokyo Metropolitan. This sort of fancy tech isn't really our area."

I nodded. I guess even the police, monumental and vast as they had seemed when I was on the wrong side of the law, had budget concerns too.

"Anything else, Kurozaha? Otherwise, let's go in and get started."

He rushed me down the winding corridors, avoiding the guests and staff. I followed graciously; meeting Yukiko now would make things a little awkward. Eventually we reached room #02-04. There, sitting in the corner of the _tatami_ mat, was Mayumi Yamano. She looked exhausted and upset, and I read nervousness and fear in her demeanor. Actually, anyone who remembered her from the evening news casts could read that. Back then, she had seemed fresh and lively, a sing-song tilt to her crisp voice that served her well in her chosen profession. Here, she barely acknowledged my entrance, following me with tired, defeated eyes. Suddenly, I felt pity for the lady. Here was a thoroughly crushed person, ripped from her job, her life and her home, on the run, hiding as far away as she could and trapped in some hotel room.

I looked away and refocused.

The job was tricky. The inn's telephone system was confusing, with a lot of new lines laid over old ones, some going on seemingly forever and ending nowhere, others looping for no apparent reason. I cursed whoever had originally laid it for not following industry standards, and after an hour of tedious sorting, finally isolated the right line. Dojima nodded and some other policeman walked over to install the device. A quick check confirmed that everything was in working order.

By the time I walked out with the middle-aged detective, a fog had rolled in. Stopping a while to adjust my work jacket, I half-asked half-stated under my breath, "Death threats."

Dojima turned and regarded me closely. He had a quiet intelligence to him that not many people expected, which was what made him such a respected detective on the police force. It didn't take him long to work out what I meant. "What makes you think so?"

"What else would make the police so concerned that they had to install a tap? She didn't just look worn out, she looked genuinely worried and frightened too. It must have been something a lot more serious than the run of the mill hate mail and hounding from the media."

He stayed silent for a while, before nodding slowly.

I sighed, exhaling a small puff of mist, "Poor sod. No one deserves that."

"I'm surprised at your concern. You hardly traded a word with her."

"She's someone on the run from rumor mongers and people who invent stories. It's something I can empathize with."

I don't think I managed to keep all the bitterness from my voice.

"Hmmm, you're still having trouble settling in?"

I chuckled dryly, "Settling into Inaba's not a problem. It's Inaba settling to me that is."

"I heard about the complaints to your supervisor at the station. Is that what you're talking about?"

I whipped my head around to him in surprise. How did he know about—

Oh. Dammit.

There must have been a letter to the police too.

Doujima must have known I had worked it out; I wasn't very discreet with the inventive curses muttered under my breath. He stepped forward and slapped a hand on my shoulder.

"Kurosawa, it's alright. We get letters like those a lot. Used to be about motorcycle gangs, then about the Tatsumi boy after he punched them up a while ago. People here always find something to complain about, but we're smart enough to know what to take seriously."

He was trying to reassure me, but it was all I could do to shake my head in frustration.

"You got to be kidding me. This is such bullshit…er, sir."

"Heh. Mind your language Kurosawa. Anyway, don't worry too much about the letters. Like I said, we've been keeping close watch on you, so we know you've been keeping your nose clean. Besides, you've been vouched for by an old _senpai_ of mine. If he tells me you're trying to change for good, then that's good enough for me."

Well, that was a double whammy of revelations. Just how closely had the police been keeping an eye on me? And who heck was this mysterious _senpai_ of Doujima's who supposedly knew me? I wanted to squeeze out more clues from the detective, but he went back into the inn after dismissing me.

Grumbling, I found my way home through the fog. Even now, the police was screwing with me. At least Doujima was a fair sort, but it was never comfortable imagining the faceless enforcers of the law breathing down one's neck.

* * *

The next day, a guy too large for life walked into Yasogami High School.

Souji Seta walked into class behind Morooka. My first impression of him, was that of understated confidence. While being introduced, he stood next to the buck-toothed monstrosity, one hand on his hips, as if resting on some non-existent sword hilt, stance simultaneously relaxed and at attention. A messy bowl cut, as silver as his pupils.

Geeze, he didn't look he came here to study. He looked like he had come here for two things, and was all out of bubblegum.

Morooka blistering introduction winded to an end. I hadn't paid it much attention, vastly more interested in trying to read the new guy. Open jacket, a classic sign of self-assurance. Gaze steady and modest; yet as penetrating as a bloody anti-aircraft radar. Somewhere in there, hid a keen mind and razor sharp observational skills. This guy was going to be far more interesting than the banal and painfully mundane sheep that plagued the school.

As Morooka finally ordered him to introduce himself, I detected a flash in Seta's eyes. He turned his head fluidly, responding in a mildly ticked off voice.

"Who're you calling a loser?"

I swear, the class was so surprised, I half expected exclamation marks to pop up in mid-air.

Me?

I broke into a feral grin. Anyone who got onto King Moron's shit list that quickly was a man after my own heart.

Chie interrupted Morooka's monologue to suggest that Seta sit in the empty seat next to hers. When he sat down, she turned and whispered some secret message to him. I would have loved to join in, but despite the new addition I was still pretty high on King Moron's shit list, so I kept to myself. Besides, from her pained grin and glances towards our teacher, I reckoned Chie was "congratulating" Seta on his luck. The new guy simply smiled and shrugged in reply, apparently laconic and not prone to talking unnecessarily.

"Kurosawa!"

"Sir."

"Who was it that described that man's life was 'solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short'?"

This was a little advanced for second year ethics, wasn't it?

"Thomas Hobbes, sir."

Morooka growled, obviously dissatisfied that I had managed to answer it. I silently thanked the heavens for philosophy that disguised itself as comics. That boy and his imaginary tiger friend would always hold a special place in my memories.

"Seta!"

"Yes sir."

"Which book did that quote appear in?"

The new guy paused for a long moment to consider it carefully. C'mon, you either knew this or you didn't. It's not as if it was a multiple choice question.

"The Leviathan."

Another scowl. In your face, Moron.

"That's right, class. Hobbes was a firm believer that mankind needed people in authority, people in power, to guide them out of their horrid lifestyles! To put them on the true and righteous path! Otherwise, all of y'all will be nothing but chaotic, godless hooligans, and there'd be no such thing as civilization."

Geeze, what the hell, Morooka was really living up to his nickname! That wasn't what Hobbes was talking about when he was writing about social contracts. The moron must have interpreted the whole "absolute sovereign" part as a tacit approval of his own methods, and simply flew off blindly from there. I scowled in disgust as I saw the rest of the class simply turn off and ignored him.

An idiot teacher, teaching an apathetic class. What a bunch of blinkered fools.

* * *

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Morooka shut up and dismissed us with a dirty look. As he was about to leave the room, the PA system came alive with a short squeal and buzz. Apparently, the teachers were being called to a staff meeting, while the students were told to remain in their classes. Morooka grunted and ordered us to do as told, before stomping off in a foul mood.

No sooner had he left, that a few of the more gossipy kids started speculating about what the fuss was. As if on cue, the distant wailing of police sirens could echoed into the classroom, sending them into even more excited chattering.

Idly, I wondered if Doujima's tap had led him to whoever had been making the death threats. Talk about fast results.

"Saito! Come and introduce yourself to Souji-kun!" Chie waved me over from her desk.

I slung my bag onto my shoulder and walked over. My two friends had obviously warmed up to him, what with using his first name already.

"Nice to meet you, Seta-san. The name's Saito Kurosawa. You'll find it high on King Moron's shit list too." I smiled and stuck out my hand.

Seta grasped it and gave it a firm shake, returning with a small smile as well.

"Souji Seta. But anyone who shares my place on that list can call me Souji."

"Likewise…Souji."

"Saito." He nodded.

"Gosh," Chie lamented, "You two are _weird_. What kind of people bond over something like that?"

"I'm sure there're other things they can talk about," Yukiko contributed, "Erm, Souji-san, Saito only entered Yasogami last year. He's a transferee like you."

Souji looked intrigued. "Why did you come to Inaba then, Saito?"

Oooh, crunch time. Let's see how he handles this.

"I was arrested for attempted fraud. Since I'm an orphan, I'm serving probation here to rehabilitate myself back into polite society."

Wham. Your move, new guy.

Souji eyes widened a fraction. To his credit, he didn't flinch. Neither did he recoil in fear. Instead, he replied in a steady voice.

"I'm sorry about your parents."

…oh.

That was unexpected. No one's ever caught on to the whole orphan part of my history. Even I never really gave it much thought either. It was just…something that was. No mum and dad. No one to chase away the monsters at night. No one to watch your back, no one to blow on your scrapes and wounds and promise it'd all be better.

I shrugged, "Don't worry about it. No one around to feel ashamed for the family felon, eh?"

There! A flash in his eyes. But what did that mean? What was he thinking? Something about family meant something to him. What was it?

Curioser and curioser.

"Err..h-hey Yukiko, did you try what I told you yesterday? You know, that thing about rainy nights?" Chie smoothly tried to change the subject.

"Oh…no, not yet, sorry."

"You mean the one that kid next door was talking about? You stare into a TV on a rainy midnight, and some special channel comes on showing you your soul mate?" I recalled.

"Yeah, that one! I heard him saying something about his soul mate being Mayumi Yamano. Weird, huh?"

I rubbed my eyebrows wearily. "Chie, it's because of urban legends like that, that I've been climbing roofs fixing perfectly good aerials all week. People are freaking out, coming up with ridiculous theories, like secret signals from outer space or some other outlandish nonsense like that. I've checked every single one of them, and there's no such thing as a midnight channel," I emphasized each word in that last statement.

Chie remained defiant though. "Oh yeah? Did you try it out on a rainy night?"

"Well no, because I make it a point not to do jobs in the middle of the NIGHT, in the RAIN, on top of a ROOF."

"Then how do you know there isn't a Midnight Channel?"

I was about to retort when the PA squawked again.

"Attention all students. There has been an incident in the school district. Police officers have been dispatched around the school zone. Please stay calm and contact your parents or guardians as soon as possible, and quickly leave the school grounds. Do not disturb the police officers. Head directly home."

Well, if that wasn't an open invitation for gawkers, I didn't know what was. Still, this sounded more serious than a simple arrest. Maybe the guy sending death threats was resisting? If so, I hoped the police exercised a bit of brutality and knocked him up a little. Asshole had it coming, preying on a woman at her wit's end.

Our discussion temporarily forgotten, the four of us picked up our bags and made to leave before the school administration changed its mind and locked us in again. Chie invited Souji along, obviously as curious as I was about the new meat.

"H-hey…C-chie?"

All of our heads turned towards the new voice. It was Yosuke, clutching something in both his sweaty hands, one feet tapping spastically on the ground. Come to think of it, he hasn't joined our little group for a long time, not since winter ended this February.

"Fiiinally! I've been looking all over for you, Yosuke. Can you please return me my 'Trial of the Dragon'? I only lent it to you 3 months ago!"

"Erm..yeah, about that. Ah…"

Summoning courage from somewhere, he swiftly bowed and shoved a DVD into Chie's hands.

"It was a really good movie and I really enjoyed it PLEASEPLEASE, I'll pay you back after I get my paycheck I'reallyreallysorryabouttheDVDpleasedon'thitme, okay see you, bye!" He stammered before attempting a desperate dash out the back door.

Chie likes to "don't think, feel." Which is why she didn't think when she instinctively leapt forward, soaring out of her seat, her kicking leg (dammit, stop staring) snapping out with the force of a cruise missile.

And like the chicken that tried to cross the road…

*crunch*

I was used to this. Souji, however, wasn't; he winced.

"NOOO! My 'Trial of the Dragon'! How did you manage to BREAK it in half?"

Yosuke's whine had long since rose to a pitch beyond human detection. My heart went out to him. Yukiko, bless her kind heart, tried to help him. "…Hanamura-san, are you alright?"

"…meep." Yosuke eloquently expressed his distress from the floor.

"C'mon guys, lets ditch him and go home!" Chie huffed and stormed out. Yukiko paid one more helpless glance at the victim, before following. I still owed him, so I kneeled down and petted his shoulder.

"Y'know, if it'd be me, I would have replaced it ASAP. You've got the resources of a whole supermarket, it should have been a piece of cake. Next time, think, instead of panicking for 3 months."

"…I don't wanna hear about it," He whimpered.

I threw my hands into the air and dragged the slightly stunned Souji out. "C'mon Souji, I can see when the words of the wise fall on deaf ears."

* * *

At the school gates, I was just in time to witness yet another attempt at the Amagi challenge. I gestured to Souji to stop and give the brave soul some space. Yukiko had Chie with her, so I wasn't too worried about leaving her unprotected. Souji observed the ritual before turning to me, eyebrows cocked in an unspoken question.

"It's called the Amagi challenge. As you'd expect, Yukiko's on every hot-blooded young boy's mind here. At some point in their school life, every guy in Yasogami tries to ask her out on a date. If they're lucky, they simply walk away after getting turned down. If they're not, and try to get a little too physical…" I mimicked Yosuke's meep.

"Chie does like a squirrel?"

"Yep. Straight for the nuts." I have to take some responsibility for my bad influence here. My lectures on dirty fighting, combined with Chie's protective streak, resulted in the bane of many scrotums.

"He's not from Yasogami." Souji pointed out.

I shrugged. "Yukiko's reputation spreads beyond the school. For his sake, I hope Chie's reputation has too."

It probably did, because I noticed the stranger get really agitated before giving Chie a nervous glance and calming down. He ran off as we strolled up, catching only the end of the conversation between the two girls.

"…and it was creepy the way he called you 'Yuki' all of a sudden."

Really? Somehow, my gut was getting bad vibes from him. I studied the retreating figure intently, catching a glimpse of his face when he looked back to shoot an angry glance at us. I memorized the dead eyes and fish lips, reminding myself to be on the lookout in case he turned out to be the crazy stalker sort.

"Guys, let's go. We're starting to attract a crowd." I said without preamble.

I never expected to walk right into a crime scene.

When I noticed the line of police tape, I stopped paying attention to Chie teasing Yukiko's shyness around the Souji. From the solemn faces on the officers and the fully idle ambulance, I was almost certain there was a corpse involved.

Snatches of conversation from gawkers offered a few more clues.

"...left school early, and as she came down the street…"

"…found THAT hanging from an antenna…"

"…wanted to see it too…"

No lady. If it's what I think it is, you wouldn't want to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Dojima walking towards us. He seemed to have his eyes on Souji, strangely enough.

"Hey, what're you doing here?"

"We were just passing through." Souji replied.

I instantly noticed the lack of propriety between Dojima and Souji. Shit, he wasn't involved with the fuzz was he?

"Sorry, but do you two know each other?" I had to ask.

Doujima paused and scratched the back of his neck. "…how do I put this? Souji's my nephew. I'm his guardian while he's staying in Inaba with me."

Well, bugger me. My new friend turns out to be a cop's relative, and a stiff just turned up in Inaba. This was an eventful day.

"Excuse me, Detective Dojima, but may I ask what happened here?" Yukiko queried.

I wasn't sure if he was going to answer or brush us off. Right then a familiar figure in a navy blue suit dashed out from behind him, hurling into the gutter nearby. The girls averted their eyes squeamishly, but I watched long enough to recognize Tohru Adachi, Dojima's partner. He was greener than a pair of lucky Irish socks, something which described both his inexperience and his current nausea.

Yep, confirmed. Either there was a corpse, or Adachi's such a rookie he couldn't even stomach the idea of a suspect resisting arrest.

The senior detective used the opportunity to berate the younger one. After giving a curt order for us to go back home, Doujima re-entered the crime scene with Adachi in tow, conveniently avoiding Yukiko's question. The girls, having had their share of the morbid, quickly bid goodbye and made their way home. I still wanted to know what was going on, so I decided to stay out a little longer to see what I could find out.

Souj too, was still hanging out at the edge of the crime scene. I could tell he was curious and hungry for information as well. It didn't sit well with people like him, all this mystery and innuendo in the air. I grinned and got his attention with a light thump on the shoulder.

"Hey, are you trying to find out what's going on?"

He nodded. Like I said, a laconic sort of guy.

"My boss works at the broadcast station. If what they say about a body being found hung from an antenna is true, he might know something about it. I'm going to sound him out, see if he does. Care to join?"

Souji seemed to hesitate for a moment, before replying.

"Sorry. My cousin's alone at home, and seeing as my uncle might be stuck in the office tonight…"

"Oh yeah, Doujima's kid, err….Naoko? Aoko? Sorry, I only remember names I can attach a face to. No problem, I'll be on my way then. I'll keep you updated."

"That'd be nice. Thanks, Saito."

I tossed a quick salute goodbye and was off.

* * *

"Mr. Kaijou, you got a moment?" I knocked on the already open door, peeking my head in. I was lucky to catch him at his office; he sometimes went out to oversee routine operations.

"Kurosawa? Yeah, I was going to call you. You know about the incident outside the school zone this afternoon?"

"Actually, that was what I was going to ask you about. I heard they found a body hanging from one of the antennas. What's up with that?"

"You heard right. Some Yasogami High girl was walking home early when she discovered it, just a-dangling from the Hinatas' TV aerial. Nasty business, especially in a small town like Inaba. But get this. Guess whose body it was?"

I had only begun pondering that question for half a moment, when I felt an icy chill grab hold of me.

Oh…

Shit.

I was a damn fool. Why didn't I figure this out earlier? All the hush hush, Dojima being involved, the wiretap job just the day before…

The death threats.

"…not Mayumi Yamano."

"Mayumi-friggin'-Yamano! Freaky isn't it? Didn't they want us to help tap her room's phone yesterday? Reckon whoever was sending those messages must have gone through with it, huh?"

I fought to reassert control over my gaping mouth.

"…I-I only just met her yesterday."

Kaijou paused a moment, confused. Then he slapped his head in realization.

"Ohh, that's right, I sent you to go handle the tapping job… Geeze, kid, are you alright? Damn, and I was going to send you to fix the aerial once the investigation was done too…"

I shook my head quickly, replying "No sir, it's okay, I'll do it. I'm alright. When do you need it?"

Kaijou eyed me narrowly. "You sure, kid? I've got other men on the dial I can dispatch; you don't have to go out."

"Yes sir. I'll be fine. Just…a little shaken."

He eyed me a while more before giving me the job, telling me to check with Dojima when it was clear for me to go up, then dismissed me.

I walked home alone with my thoughts. They swirled around the memory of a lone and hunched figure, around the memory of dejected and hopeless eyes. That figure would now be lying stiff in a morgue, and those eyes would be glassy and clouded over, its owner irretrievably beyond the veil of mortality.

The poor sod.


	5. Chapter 4

My supervisor, Mr. Kaijou, called me to a meeting one day. It was late March, and I'd only been working for less than three months, so I was pretty sure it wasn't about a pay raise. It was merely curious, but deep down, my gut was already giving me a foreboding feeling. As much as I wanted to ignore it, it was difficult to shake off something that's proved so accurate so many times before.

I walked into the cramped and windowless office, watching as Mr. Kaijou shuffled through the untidy mess of documents on his desk. Alarm bells started ringing in my head, when as a prelude, the usually gruff, blue collared manager felt it necessary to give me a reassuring smile.

"Kurosawa! Good to see you. How is the work so far?" he boomed.

"Fine sir. The winter was a little busy, but I'm managing."

"Good!" he replied, a little too enthusiastically, nodding and repeating the exclamation as his voice slowly trailed away.

I stood at attention, waiting for him to get to the point. There was an awkward pause as he tried to think of some way to reduce the tension. Eventually, he gave up with a sigh.

"Look kid, I don't know you all that well. What I do know so far, I like. You're not a bad sort, even if you did get mix up with some shady stuff a long time ago. All the guys say you got a knack for learning things, and are willing to work hard. Heck, your first jobs were in the winter, juggling school too, and I hardly heard a word of complaint from you. I don't know a lot of guys like that, Kurosawa."

It didn't take a genius to sense the "but" coming.

"Thing is…there're a lot of letters coming in from the folks living in Inaba. Many of them were, well, requests that next time we sent a repair guy down, it won't be…someone they didn't feel at ease with."

No. Just…no.

Dammit, I only JUST got this job!

"Now, I want you to know that, it wasn't us who told them who you were. In a small town like this, people recognize faces, and they all know you history."

Bullshit! They didn't know crap about my history.

"So, some people got worried. I got letters asking if it was normal for our guys to stay on the roofs for so long, or why you kept disappearing to the other side of the roof, or why you had to bring such a big tool box for a simple maintenance job…that sort of stuff," he finished.

"I see." I fought to keep my voice from rising. It didn't soften the glare I was giving him, though. I refused to look down and redirect it at his desk, so I picked a spot above his shoulder, staring daggers into the wall behind him.

"What do you intend to do, sir?" I bit out.

Kaijou sighed. "Nothing, Kurosawa. As far as I'm concerned, you're squared away, and the people writing the letters are just yapping at nothing. What I _do_ want you to do, is keep your head screwed on tight. Watch yourself, and toe the line. You're not the first guy with a…complicated past that I've hired, but your situation is kind of sticky. For one, people actually know who you are, and second, you're still just a kid. The last thing I need, Kurosawa, is for you to lose your cool and do something stupid. Then, all these people will have something legitimate to yap about, and I can't back you up once that happens. Do you understand, young man?"

Nod.

"Then keep up the good job, Kurosawa. And take the rest of the day off. You can go now."

I took deliberate, measured steps out of the office. Out of the building, out onto the street. Many deep breaths later, the red haze started to retreat from my head.

I bloody knew it.

Reading between Mr. Kaijou's lines, the message was stark and clear. Be cleaner than clean, or he'll drop me faster than hot coal. Not because I was doing a bad job. Not because I was doing something stupid, like stealing aerials for parts or illegally tapping into the signals. No, it was because some idiots got their feathers ruffled by my presence.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I forgot, that's how the world turns. On self-delusions and comfortable lies. How many times have I told someone what they wanted to hear, led them where they wanted to go, promise them what they coveted?

At first I couldn't believe how stupid the sheep can be. Then, after my first scam, I laughed, and then kept laughing until the joke turned on me.

I gave a vicious kick to a can lying on the road. It launched off with an ear-piercing clang, arcing over Samegawa embankment and out of view, the edge of my temper disappearing along with it. I collapsed on the grassy edge, trying to rein in the rest of it. Slowly, my thoughts slowed down, from a mad inferno, to a simmering boil, my thoughts turning from rage to vindictive wrath.

In the end, the sheep haven't changed. They were still the same blind, blinkered idiots bleating for the same lies. They were ripe for the slaughter, begging to be fleeced.

All it takes, is a canny wolf and a cloak of wool.

Because I knew I had an opportunity to get back at them. Because I hated losing. Because I hated being trampled underfoot by these worthless idiots. Get mad. Get even! Savor their begging. Revel in their final, abject despair, as they realize that they messed with the wrong. Fucking. Guy.

Shit. Dammit.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I rubbed my temple and allowed the throbbing in my head to recede. The red haze in my eyes faded from view again. After it did, all I felt was boneless fatigue, exhaustion so complete my steps degenerated to dejected dragging across the endless asphalt.

No. No more scams. No more trouble. No more biting on more than I could chew. I just wanted to get on with life, and leave old regrets be.

Cleaner than clean, right? I could do that. I _would_ do that.

Picking up the pace, I walked the rest of the way home.

* * *

That night, I dreamt of Keiichi again. I dreamt about the times we slept under an overpass, on a cold night just like this. I remembered the oily smell of the fuel drum fire we shared amongst the Tokyo homeless, huddling close together and slurping stolen cans of food. I asked him where were the billions of yen we were going to make, he laughed and told me to take things slowly; that if the money never came, it didn't matter anyway. I could tell it was a dream, because he was flicking that tacky stars-and-stripes lighter he had bought, long after we had been recruited by some yakuza gangsters and gotten some halfway decent shelter. Realizing the illusion, I gave a grunt, stood up and, thanks to the logic of dreams, walked into an interrogation room.

The flickering drum fire coalesced into a strong lamp. A random hobo slowly morphed into a detective, his face shadowed by the harsh light. I hadn't even noticed how I went from mid-stride, to being seated, cuffed to a metal desk.

The detective commenced the interrogation, speaking in that hauntingly familiar posh, educated tone.

_Hello Saito. Are you ready to answer some questions?_

I nodded instinctively. I wasn't even sure what was going on in my dream yet.

_Excellent. Do you remember where you got those wounds?_

I looked down and saw the bandages across my arms. Rows more were tightly wrapped around my numbed abdomen.

Yes, I remember this. Swallowing thickly (or at least I dreamed I did, I heard you couldn't swallow while sleeping), I gave a reply.

"In the struggle,"

_With whom?_

"With Wataru and Keiichi."

_They were in the midst of one before you joined, presumably?_

"Yes."

_Why did you join the struggle?_

"He was trying to gut Keiichi. I was trying to stop him."

_What was the cause of Mr. Wataru's wrath?_

"Money."

_Money? No significant sum of it was recovered from the scene._

"It was money he didn't know Keiichi didn't have."

_Are you aware of what ultimately became of Mr. Wataru? _

"…yes."

The detective paused. Then, he got up, and paced around the room ever so slowly.

_The only persons found in that locked room, were the victim Mr. Wataru Ichina, your friend Keiichi Ayaka, and yourself, Saito Kurozaha. Both you and your friend were found blacked out from your wounds. It goes to say, therefore, that either one of you must have done the deed. _

_One of you must have killed him._

_Was it Touji who stuck the fatal blow upon Mr. Wataru?_

_Or was it you, Saito, who dragged the knife across his neck, choking him in his own blood? _

By now, the faceless detective had walked behind me.

_What we want to know, Saito, is who the responsible party is?_

"…"

_Who killed him?_

I couldn't respond.

_Who. Killed. Wataru?_

"…Keiichi." I whispered.

_Liar._

I didn't want to, but I knew I had to look up. It wasn't the detective anymore. There wasn't a lamp in the room. I probably wasn't cuffed either, I didn't care to find out. I sat transfixed, staring at that familiar face, slowly mouthing out four letters.

_L. I. A. R_

I held his gaze with as much defiance as I could summon.

"You're not real. You're not Keiichi. Who's the liar now?"

"Keiichi's already dead."

* * *

I woke up as usual. This wasn't a nightmare. This was just guilt, coming back again to haunt me like some cheap manifested demon. This was just an episode brought about by Kaijou's warning the day before.

Old man Daidara was already sitting at the table when I went down for breakfast. I greeted him, and he acknowledged by putting down his coffee cup.

"You didn't eat dinner last night."

I paused, and realized that he was right.

"I… honestly forgot."

One of the old man's flaming red eyebrows arched upwards. I felt his gaze bore into me, wordlessly scrutinizing my bearing. Mentally, I slammed my defenses into place.

"You had something on your mind?"

"Just work."

He waited for me to continue. I waited for him to give up. Too bad he had more experience in stubbornness than I did.

So I raged-quit.

"I gotta go before I'm late. I'll see you later tonight, bye."

I quickly stood up and left for school. There was no way I was discussing my problems with the old man. I might have managed to push my discomfort of him to the back of mind, but it didn't lie there forgotten. Every time he showed concern, I was like a startled animal on those wild life documentaries, tensing up and wary of the strange man with the camera. There just wasn't any way to be sure which meaning of the word "shoot" he had in mind.

* * *

On the first day of the new academic year, I discovered that Mr. Morooka was my homeroom teacher.

Some days just aren't worth waking up to.

As expected he gave the usual rant about our crumbling morals and loose standards et cetera. I noticed him giving me significant glares at some points, and being in a lousy mood, I just glared right back instead of avoiding it. I don't know what his problem was; the kids here were pretty tame. If he had taught in a city school, he would have flipped and suffered a stroke at some of the things they got up to.

At lunch time, I realized I had forgotten to pack a meal in my hurry to get away. Okay, this has got to stop; starving because of angst was ridiculous. The last thing I need was light-headedness to lead to vertigo while I'm up on a roof.

Chiding myself, I went over to sit with Chie.

"Hey, where's your lunch box?" she asked.

"I left home in a hurry and forgot about it," I replied, shaking my head.

"Oh," Yukiko said, joining us, "You'll have to less forgetful Saito. It isn't healthy to miss meals,"

"Yeah, all meals are important! You gotta eat up if you want to beef up. Otherwise, you'll just end up like a beanpole, and have to hug a lamp post every time a strong wind blows."

Yukiko had a faraway look, before giving an inelegant "snrk" and nearly dropping her bento.

And then she started.

"Yukiko, if you don't stop laughing, YOU'LL be the one missing a meal."

Chie simply shook her head, sighed and offered me two sticks of her _yakitori_. There wasn't anything we could do, other than wait it out and weather everyone's weird looks.

"Seriously though, you came pretty early today Saito. Why did you have to leave the house in such a rush if you weren't late?"

It was a deceptively easy question. Did I want to tell my two friends what was going on? I didn't have it in me to lie or think of a way to divert. They didn't deserve that from me.

"I…wanted to avoid an awkward conversation with the old man. I left so I wouldn't have to answer if he asked."

"What kind of conversation?"

"An awkward one." I emphasized.

Chie frowned. I could tell she wasn't satisfied with a simple stonewall. I wasn't either, but it was the best I could do without fibbing. She tried another avenue of approach.

"You know, you never talk about how you and Mr. Daidara get along. I thought it was just 'cos he's the strong and silent type, but I've seen him get pretty chatty about weapons and stuff. I mean, it's been a year since he took you in. Don't you two ever talk about anything?"

"Yes, we do. About dinner, and school. Sometimes, we talk about the store."

"I don't mean simple stuff like that. Like…does he talk about his smithing? Tell you about his family, or how he came to Inaba?"

"No. I would think that's pretty personal stuff to share, Chie."

"Maybe, but he is your guardian. He's supposed to be talking to you, and teaching you, and…I dunno, trying to help you face your problems."

"The old man's may have the looks and the personality, but he's not some secret kungfu master living in the mountains, Chie."

And I'm no Daniel-san. But I reckon, if Daidara were ever to cultivate a _bonsai_ plant, it'd be carved from the sheet metal of a car door. And his version of "Wax on wax off" would probably involve furious banging of hot metal.

Chie tried to give me a taste of my own gaze, but it was lessened (or perhaps heightened) by her adorable (mental slap back into decency) pout. And by Yukiko still laughing in the background.

"I'm serious Saito. It's been a year since you've been to Inaba, and I never see you hang out with anyone other than me, Yukiko and Yosuke."

I grinned. "Maybe it's because with such pretty friends like you and Yukiko, I don't really need any other friends." Turns out the mental slap didn't get rid of all the lewdness after all.

She blushed, not expecting something so left-field. Unfortunately, instead of grinding to a halt, she shook her head rapidly and fought it off. Dammit Chie! I had to resort to such an awful and corny line, and you still won't budge.

"T-That's not the point. You don't want to make friends, and those that you make, you don't want to share you problems with." With a small voice, she trailed off, "S-some of us just want to help, that's all…"

I had to look away from her. The distress in her voice was just tangible enough for me to detect.

Of course, how could I forget Chie's people-saving thing?

In the end, what was the moral of all kungfu stories? That the strong was supposed to help the weak. If there was a town being oppressed by the corrupt, the pugilist would step in. If there were folks being harassed by hooligans, the neighborhood _ninja_ would beat them to a pulp. If there was a school kid being bullied by the jocks, the old master would teach him to stand up for himself.

While other girls grew up looking for a knight in shining armor, Chie Satonaka was looking for a damsel to save.

Hang on…

While grateful and heartwarming, the realization that she saw me as a "damsel" threw me into a complete loop.

I swear I'm becoming soft these days.

Sighing, I slowly gave some ground. "Chie…I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I've got personal, and mostly hard to explain reasons why I don't trust Daidara. As for the awkward conversation I wanted to avoid…it's just about the usual flak I've been dealing with since I arrived, nothing more," I brushed off.

I knew she wouldn't understand my unease regarding the old man. The cornerstone of her belief was that it was possible for heroes to swoop in and save a complete stranger. There were people like that, sure. But the odds were long, and I've learned a long time ago to keep my bets safe. I guess that's the difference in believing _in_ good people, and believing they existed.

Chie stared at me a little longer, before giving a disappointed huff and backing down. She knew she'd just have to be satisfied with that little victory. Frankly, I felt like a jerk. To a person so eager to help her friends, refusing to share my problems implied that I thought she was useless. But what else could I do? She could neither change my opinion of Daidara, nor Inaba's opinion of me. I didn't want to send her off tilting windmills.

Yukiko finally calmed down. I had no idea if she had followed the little drama. We continued lunch in silence anyway.


	6. Chapter 5

Inaba is always abuzz with rumors. It seems an unavoidable fact of slow paced country living; people need something to fill in the long stretches of empty dullness. My story was old news and worn to the ground already, but like any good boogeyman story, occasionally gets recycled whenever I turn up. Which was why I was perversely glad when something like the Yamano-Namatame affair came around. Such a sensational scandal took all the attention off me.

The story is well-known already, so I'll just cover the important bits. He was a council secretary. She was a newscaster. He went down to arrange news coverage for a press conference. She met him at the news station. Sparks flew, they hit it off. His high profile wife found out, then his boss, then her boss, and if not for some loose lips somewhere along the line, so did the paparazzi. The next day, the tabloids related tales of sordid stories and scandalous speculations not suitable for the minds of minors. All this drama would have passed over the sleepy little town, had it not been for the latest rumor.

Miss Yamano was taking refuge in the Inaba's very own Amagi Inn.

Yukiko was inevitably swamped with incessant questions from the kids in Yasogami High. She refused to say anything. Only the dimmest couldn't read that as an inadvertent affirmative. The poor girl didn't have a lying bone in her, even if she did try to stay above all the mess. Chie and I helped deflect those too stubborn to give up, me with my reputation and glare, Chie with her liberal and enthusiastic application of nut shots.

It was a close tie between who was the more effective deterrent, though I vastly preferred her method.

Yukiko did privately confide in us that her parents had strictly forbidden her from mentioning anything, which I thought was a really self-defeating idea. Nonetheless, we promised not to speak of it in Yukiko's presence, causing Chie to refer to the affair in increasing vague terms such as "that thing", "y'know-what" and my personal favorite "the Yayumi Mamano thingy". I had a lot of fun faking ignorance and enjoying her flustered attempts at dissembling, while Yukiko sank deeper into embarrassment and pretending she hadn't already caught on four euphemisms ago.

* * *

I confirmed the rumor for myself later that day, when Mr. Kaijou told me to meet Detective Dojima at the Amagi Inn for a semi-hush-hush job for the police. For all the suspicion I held of the police force, I still thought of Detective Ryoutaro Dojima as a solid sort of guy in my books. The man was a widower, a father, and one of the most professional officers I've met. Maybe a little too professional though. For a single father, I've observed him spending far too much time in the station. I suspect I might see him more often during my routine reporting in than his little girl does. Curiosity led me to conduct a simple perusal through the local library's newspaper archives, revealing the cause of Dojima's widowhood.

Was he avoiding home due to guilt? Was the daughter a painful reminder of the wife he had lost so suddenly? I had neither the time nor stomach to ponder on the man's psyche, so I simply filed it away as usual. He treated me fairly, handling me with a mix of appropriate caution and rare open-mindedness. I had no intentions of paying it back by nosing into his painful history.

I met Dojima just outside the back entrance to the Amagi Inn. As I walked up to him, I already had a vague inkling what this would be about.

"Good evening, Officer Dojima," I greeted with a customary bow.

"Ah, Kurosawa-san, just in time. Did you bring your tools?"

"Yes sir, fully kitted out." I lifted my work bag and petted it, eliciting a dull clanking sound.

"That's good. Now before you go in, you need to know a few things first…"

"Let me guess. A certain newscaster, seeking refuge from the media backlash, is hiding out in a certain prestigious inn, and any information I come across is to be kept strictly confidential, on pain of prosecution or some other unofficial way to make my already precarious life difficult."

Dojima's eyebrows arched, but to his credit, he didn't say anything. It's exceedingly petty, but policemen always brought out the smartarse in me. Still, out of respect for him, I refrained from naming names. He grunted and folded his arms.

"Well then Sherlock, what do you think you're here for? Other than simply repeating _rumors_ my neighbors have been spreading."

"Not a clue, sir," I smiled. See? Insufferable smartarse.

"Humor me," he ordered testily.

I shrugged. "I really don't know. I'm guessing you want me to check for…bugs? Wiretaps? From stalkers or other weirdoes? Maybe some unethical reporter trying to get an inside scoop?"

Doujima grinned, correcting me. "Not quite. We need you to isolate the phone line of a specific room, and allow us to install a tap to listen in on it."

"Don't you have police technicians to do that?"

"Not really. This is Inaba, not the Tokyo Metropolitan. This sort of fancy tech isn't really our area."

I nodded. I guess even the police, monumental and vast as they had seemed when I was on the wrong side of the law, had budget concerns too.

"Anything else, Kurozaha? Otherwise, let's go in and get started."

He rushed me down the winding corridors, avoiding the guests and staff. I followed graciously; meeting Yukiko now would make things a little awkward. Eventually we reached room #02-04. There, sitting in the corner of the _tatami_ mat, was Mayumi Yamano. She looked exhausted and upset, and I read nervousness and fear in her demeanor. Actually, anyone who remembered her from the evening news casts could read that. Back then, she had seemed fresh and lively, a sing-song tilt to her crisp voice that served her well in her chosen profession. Here, she barely acknowledged my entrance, following me with tired, defeated eyes. Suddenly, I felt pity for the lady. Here was a thoroughly crushed person, ripped from her job, her life and her home, on the run, hiding as far away as she could and trapped in some hotel room.

I looked away and refocused.

The job was tricky. The inn's telephone system was confusing, with a lot of new lines laid over old ones, some going on seemingly forever and ending nowhere, others looping for no apparent reason. I cursed whoever had originally laid it for not following industry standards, and after an hour of tedious sorting, finally isolated the right line. Dojima nodded and some other policeman walked over to install the device. A quick check confirmed that everything was in working order.

By the time I walked out with the middle-aged detective, a fog had rolled in. Stopping a while to adjust my work jacket, I half-asked half-stated under my breath, "Death threats."

Dojima turned and regarded me closely. He had a quiet intelligence to him that not many people expected, which was what made him such a respected detective on the police force. It didn't take him long to work out what I meant. "What makes you think so?"

"What else would make the police so concerned that they had to install a tap? She didn't just look worn out, she looked genuinely worried and frightened too. It must have been something a lot more serious than the run of the mill hate mail and hounding from the media."

He stayed silent for a while, before nodding slowly.

I sighed, exhaling a small puff of mist, "Poor sod. No one deserves that."

"I'm surprised at your concern. You hardly traded a word with her."

"She's someone on the run from rumor mongers and people who invent stories. It's something I can empathize with."

I don't think I managed to keep all the bitterness from my voice.

"Hmmm, you're still having trouble settling in?"

I chuckled dryly, "Settling into Inaba's not a problem. It's Inaba settling to me that is."

"I heard about the complaints to your supervisor at the station. Is that what you're talking about?"

I whipped my head around to him in surprise. How did he know about—

Oh. Dammit.

There must have been a letter to the police too.

Doujima must have known I had worked it out; I wasn't very discreet with the inventive curses muttered under my breath. He stepped forward and slapped a hand on my shoulder.

"Kurosawa, it's alright. We get letters like those a lot. Used to be about motorcycle gangs, then about the Tatsumi boy after he punched them up a while ago. People here always find something to complain about, but we're smart enough to know what to take seriously."

He was trying to reassure me, but it was all I could do to shake my head in frustration.

"You got to be kidding me. This is such bullshit…er, sir."

"Heh. Mind your language Kurosawa. Anyway, don't worry too much about the letters. Like I said, we've been keeping close watch on you, so we know you've been keeping your nose clean. Besides, you've been vouched for by an old _senpai_ of mine. If he tells me you're trying to change for good, then that's good enough for me."

Well, that was a double whammy of revelations. Just how closely had the police been keeping an eye on me? And who heck was this mysterious _senpai_ of Doujima's who supposedly knew me? I wanted to squeeze out more clues from the detective, but he went back into the inn after dismissing me.

Grumbling, I found my way home through the fog. Even now, the police was screwing with me. At least Doujima was a fair sort, but it was never comfortable imagining the faceless enforcers of the law breathing down one's neck.

* * *

The next day, a guy too large for life walked into Yasogami High School.

Souji Seta walked into class behind Morooka. My first impression of him, was that of understated confidence. While being introduced, he stood next to the buck-toothed monstrosity, one hand on his hips, as if resting on some non-existent sword hilt, stance simultaneously relaxed and at attention. A messy bowl cut, as silver as his pupils.

Geeze, he didn't look he came here to study. He looked like he had come here for two things, and was all out of bubblegum.

Morooka blistering introduction winded to an end. I hadn't paid it much attention, vastly more interested in trying to read the new guy. Open jacket, a classic sign of self-assurance. Gaze steady and modest; yet as penetrating as a bloody anti-aircraft radar. Somewhere in there, hid a keen mind and razor sharp observational skills. This guy was going to be far more interesting than the banal and painfully mundane sheep that plagued the school.

As Morooka finally ordered him to introduce himself, I detected a flash in Seta's eyes. He turned his head fluidly, responding in a mildly ticked off voice.

"Who're you calling a loser?"

I swear, the class was so surprised, I half expected exclamation marks to pop up in mid-air.

Me?

I broke into a feral grin. Anyone who got onto King Moron's shit list that quickly was a man after my own heart.

Chie interrupted Morooka's monologue to suggest that Seta sit in the empty seat next to hers. When he sat down, she turned and whispered some secret message to him. I would have loved to join in, but despite the new addition I was still pretty high on King Moron's shit list, so I kept to myself. Besides, from her pained grin and glances towards our teacher, I reckoned Chie was "congratulating" Seta on his luck. The new guy simply smiled and shrugged in reply, apparently laconic and not prone to talking unnecessarily.

"Kurosawa!"

"Sir."

"Who was it that described that man's life was 'solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short'?"

This was a little advanced for second year ethics, wasn't it?

"Thomas Hobbes, sir."

Morooka growled, obviously dissatisfied that I had managed to answer it. I silently thanked the heavens for philosophy that disguised itself as comics. That boy and his imaginary tiger friend would always hold a special place in my memories.

"Seta!"

"Yes sir."

"Which book did that quote appear in?"

The new guy paused for a long moment to consider it carefully. C'mon, you either knew this or you didn't. It's not as if it was a multiple choice question.

"The Leviathan."

Another scowl. In your face, Moron.

"That's right, class. Hobbes was a firm believer that mankind needed people in authority, people in power, to guide them out of their horrid lifestyles! To put them on the true and righteous path! Otherwise, all of y'all will be nothing but chaotic, godless hooligans, and there'd be no such thing as civilization."

Geeze, what the hell, Morooka was really living up to his nickname! That wasn't what Hobbes was talking about when he was writing about social contracts. The moron must have interpreted the whole "absolute sovereign" part as a tacit approval of his own methods, and simply flew off blindly from there. I scowled in disgust as I saw the rest of the class simply turn off and ignored him.

An idiot teacher, teaching an apathetic class. What a bunch of blinkered fools.

* * *

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Morooka shut up and dismissed us with a dirty look. As he was about to leave the room, the PA system came alive with a short squeal and buzz. Apparently, the teachers were being called to a staff meeting, while the students were told to remain in their classes. Morooka grunted and ordered us to do as told, before stomping off in a foul mood.

No sooner had he left, that a few of the more gossipy kids started speculating about what the fuss was. As if on cue, the distant wailing of police sirens could echoed into the classroom, sending them into even more excited chattering.

Idly, I wondered if Doujima's tap had led him to whoever had been making the death threats. Talk about fast results.

"Saito! Come and introduce yourself to Souji-kun!" Chie waved me over from her desk.

I slung my bag onto my shoulder and walked over. My two friends had obviously warmed up to him, what with using his first name already.

"Nice to meet you, Seta-san. The name's Saito Kurosawa. You'll find it high on King Moron's shit list too." I smiled and stuck out my hand.

Seta grasped it and gave it a firm shake, returning with a small smile as well.

"Souji Seta. But anyone who shares my place on that list can call me Souji."

"Likewise…Souji."

"Saito." He nodded.

"Gosh," Chie lamented, "You two are _weird_. What kind of people bond over something like that?"

"I'm sure there're other things they can talk about," Yukiko contributed, "Erm, Souji-san, Saito only entered Yasogami last year. He's a transferee like you."

Souji looked intrigued. "Why did you come to Inaba then, Saito?"

Oooh, crunch time. Let's see how he handles this.

"I was arrested for attempted fraud. Since I'm an orphan, I'm serving probation here to rehabilitate myself back into polite society."

Wham. Your move, new guy.

Souji eyes widened a fraction. To his credit, he didn't flinch. Neither did he recoil in fear. Instead, he replied in a steady voice.

"I'm sorry about your parents."

…oh.

That was unexpected. No one's ever caught on to the whole orphan part of my history. Even I never really gave it much thought either. It was just…something that was. No mum and dad. No one to chase away the monsters at night. No one to watch your back, no one to blow on your scrapes and wounds and promise it'd all be better.

I shrugged, "Don't worry about it. No one around to feel ashamed for the family felon, eh?"

There! A flash in his eyes. But what did that mean? What was he thinking? Something about family meant something to him. What was it?

Curioser and curioser.

"Err..h-hey Yukiko, did you try what I told you yesterday? You know, that thing about rainy nights?" Chie smoothly tried to change the subject.

"Oh…no, not yet, sorry."

"You mean the one that kid next door was talking about? You stare into a TV on a rainy midnight, and some special channel comes on showing you your soul mate?" I recalled.

"Yeah, that one! I heard him saying something about his soul mate being Mayumi Yamano. Weird, huh?"

I rubbed my eyebrows wearily. "Chie, it's because of urban legends like that, that I've been climbing roofs fixing perfectly good aerials all week. People are freaking out, coming up with ridiculous theories, like secret signals from outer space or some other outlandish nonsense like that. I've checked every single one of them, and there's no such thing as a midnight channel," I emphasized each word in that last statement.

Chie remained defiant though. "Oh yeah? Did you try it out on a rainy night?"

"Well no, because I make it a point not to do jobs in the middle of the NIGHT, in the RAIN, on top of a ROOF."

"Then how do you know there isn't a Midnight Channel?"

I was about to retort when the PA squawked again.

"Attention all students. There has been an incident in the school district. Police officers have been dispatched around the school zone. Please stay calm and contact your parents or guardians as soon as possible, and quickly leave the school grounds. Do not disturb the police officers. Head directly home."

Well, if that wasn't an open invitation for gawkers, I didn't know what was. Still, this sounded more serious than a simple arrest. Maybe the guy sending death threats was resisting? If so, I hoped the police exercised a bit of brutality and knocked him up a little. Asshole had it coming, preying on a woman at her wit's end.

Our discussion temporarily forgotten, the four of us picked up our bags and made to leave before the school administration changed its mind and locked us in again. Chie invited Souji along, obviously as curious as I was about the new meat.

"H-hey…C-chie?"

All of our heads turned towards the new voice. It was Yosuke, clutching something in both his sweaty hands, one feet tapping spastically on the ground. Come to think of it, he hasn't joined our little group for a long time, not since winter ended this February.

"Fiiinally! I've been looking all over for you, Yosuke. Can you please return me my 'Trial of the Dragon'? I only lent it to you 3 months ago!"

"Erm..yeah, about that. Ah…"

Summoning courage from somewhere, he swiftly bowed and shoved a DVD into Chie's hands.

"It was a really good movie and I really enjoyed it PLEASEPLEASE, I'll pay you back after I get my paycheck I'reallyreallysorryabouttheDVDpleasedon'thitme, okay see you, bye!" He stammered before attempting a desperate dash out the back door.

Chie likes to "don't think, feel." Which is why she didn't think when she instinctively leapt forward, soaring out of her seat, her kicking leg (dammit, stop staring) snapping out with the force of a cruise missile.

And like the chicken that tried to cross the road…

*crunch*

I was used to this. Souji, however, wasn't; he winced.

"NOOO! My 'Trial of the Dragon'! How did you manage to BREAK it in half?"

Yosuke's whine had long since rose to a pitch beyond human detection. My heart went out to him. Yukiko, bless her kind heart, tried to help him. "…Hanamura-san, are you alright?"

"…meep." Yosuke eloquently expressed his distress from the floor.

"C'mon guys, lets ditch him and go home!" Chie huffed and stormed out. Yukiko paid one more helpless glance at the victim, before following. I still owed him, so I kneeled down and petted his shoulder.

"Y'know, if it'd be me, I would have replaced it ASAP. You've got the resources of a whole supermarket, it should have been a piece of cake. Next time, think, instead of panicking for 3 months."

"…I don't wanna hear about it," He whimpered.

I threw my hands into the air and dragged the slightly stunned Souji out. "C'mon Souji, I can see when the words of the wise fall on deaf ears."

* * *

At the school gates, I was just in time to witness yet another attempt at the Amagi challenge. I gestured to Souji to stop and give the brave soul some space. Yukiko had Chie with her, so I wasn't too worried about leaving her unprotected. Souji observed the ritual before turning to me, eyebrows cocked in an unspoken question.

"It's called the Amagi challenge. As you'd expect, Yukiko's on every hot-blooded young boy's mind here. At some point in their school life, every guy in Yasogami tries to ask her out on a date. If they're lucky, they simply walk away after getting turned down. If they're not, and try to get a little too physical…" I mimicked Yosuke's meep.

"Chie does like a squirrel?"

"Yep. Straight for the nuts." I have to take some responsibility for my bad influence here. My lectures on dirty fighting, combined with Chie's protective streak, resulted in the bane of many scrotums.

"He's not from Yasogami." Souji pointed out.

I shrugged. "Yukiko's reputation spreads beyond the school. For his sake, I hope Chie's reputation has too."

It probably did, because I noticed the stranger get really agitated before giving Chie a nervous glance and calming down. He ran off as we strolled up, catching only the end of the conversation between the two girls.

"…and it was creepy the way he called you 'Yuki' all of a sudden."

Really? Somehow, my gut was getting bad vibes from him. I studied the retreating figure intently, catching a glimpse of his face when he looked back to shoot an angry glance at us. I memorized the dead eyes and fish lips, reminding myself to be on the lookout in case he turned out to be the crazy stalker sort.

"Guys, let's go. We're starting to attract a crowd." I said without preamble.

I never expected to walk right into a crime scene.

When I noticed the line of police tape, I stopped paying attention to Chie teasing Yukiko's shyness around the Souji. From the solemn faces on the officers and the fully idle ambulance, I was almost certain there was a corpse involved.

Snatches of conversation from gawkers offered a few more clues.

"...left school early, and as she came down the street…"

"…found THAT hanging from an antenna…"

"…wanted to see it too…"

No lady. If it's what I think it is, you wouldn't want to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Dojima walking towards us. He seemed to have his eyes on Souji, strangely enough.

"Hey, what're you doing here?"

"We were just passing through." Souji replied.

I instantly noticed the lack of propriety between Dojima and Souji. Shit, he wasn't involved with the fuzz was he?

"Sorry, but do you two know each other?" I had to ask.

Doujima paused and scratched the back of his neck. "…how do I put this? Souji's my nephew. I'm his guardian while he's staying in Inaba with me."

Well, bugger me. My new friend turns out to be a cop's relative, and a stiff just turned up in Inaba. This was an eventful day.

"Excuse me, Detective Dojima, but may I ask what happened here?" Yukiko queried.

I wasn't sure if he was going to answer or brush us off. Right then a familiar figure in a navy blue suit dashed out from behind him, hurling into the gutter nearby. The girls averted their eyes squeamishly, but I watched long enough to recognize Tohru Adachi, Dojima's partner. He was greener than a pair of lucky Irish socks, something which described both his inexperience and his current nausea.

Yep, confirmed. Either there was a corpse, or Adachi's such a rookie he couldn't even stomach the idea of a suspect resisting arrest.

The senior detective used the opportunity to berate the younger one. After giving a curt order for us to go back home, Doujima re-entered the crime scene with Adachi in tow, conveniently avoiding Yukiko's question. The girls, having had their share of the morbid, quickly bid goodbye and made their way home. I still wanted to know what was going on, so I decided to stay out a little longer to see what I could find out.

Souj too, was still hanging out at the edge of the crime scene. I could tell he was curious and hungry for information as well. It didn't sit well with people like him, all this mystery and innuendo in the air. I grinned and got his attention with a light thump on the shoulder.

"Hey, are you trying to find out what's going on?"

He nodded. Like I said, a laconic sort of guy.

"My boss works at the broadcast station. If what they say about a body being found hung from an antenna is true, he might know something about it. I'm going to sound him out, see if he does. Care to join?"

Souji seemed to hesitate for a moment, before replying.

"Sorry. My cousin's alone at home, and seeing as my uncle might be stuck in the office tonight…"

"Oh yeah, Doujima's kid, err….Naoko? Aoko? Sorry, I only remember names I can attach a face to. No problem, I'll be on my way then. I'll keep you updated."

"That'd be nice. Thanks, Saito."

I tossed a quick salute goodbye and was off.

* * *

"Mr. Kaijou, you got a moment?" I knocked on the already open door, peeking my head in. I was lucky to catch him at his office; he sometimes went out to oversee routine operations.

"Kurosawa? Yeah, I was going to call you. You know about the incident outside the school zone this afternoon?"

"Actually, that was what I was going to ask you about. I heard they found a body hanging from one of the antennas. What's up with that?"

"You heard right. Some Yasogami High girl was walking home early when she discovered it, just a-dangling from the Hinatas' TV aerial. Nasty business, especially in a small town like Inaba. But get this. Guess whose body it was?"

I had only begun pondering that question for half a moment, when I felt an icy chill grab hold of me.

Oh…

Shit.

I was a damn fool. Why didn't I figure this out earlier? All the hush hush, Dojima being involved, the wiretap job just the day before…

The death threats.

"…not Mayumi Yamano."

"Mayumi-friggin'-Yamano! Freaky isn't it? Didn't they want us to help tap her room's phone yesterday? Reckon whoever was sending those messages must have gone through with it, huh?"

I fought to reassert control over my gaping mouth.

"…I-I only just met her yesterday."

Kaijou paused a moment, confused. Then he slapped his head in realization.

"Ohh, that's right, I sent you to go handle the tapping job… Geeze, kid, are you alright? Damn, and I was going to send you to fix the aerial once the investigation was done too…"

I shook my head quickly, replying "No sir, it's okay, I'll do it. I'm alright. When do you need it?"

Kaijou eyed me narrowly. "You sure, kid? I've got other men on the dial I can dispatch; you don't have to go out."

"Yes sir. I'll be fine. Just…a little shaken."

He eyed me a while more before giving me the job, telling me to check with Dojima when it was clear for me to go up, then dismissed me.

I walked home alone with my thoughts. They swirled around the memory of a lone and hunched figure, around the memory of dejected and hopeless eyes. That figure would now be lying stiff in a morgue, and those eyes would be glassy and clouded over, its owner irretrievably beyond the veil of mortality.

The poor sod.


	7. Chapter 6

Souji arrived in school the next day with Yosuke in tow, the latter in animated conversation while Souji listened attentively. Chie and Yukiko were already seated, also engrossed in their own discussions. Both groups were evidently willing to move pass yesterday's groin violence, waving casually at each other in greeting.

I was at my desk, staring at nowhere in particular, somber and taciturn. My mind kept wandering off, mulling over the murder. Because that was what it was, no two ways about it. A body doesn't end up in such an unusual place by accident; someone took the trouble to place it there. What was the motive behind such a strange action? Was the killer trying to send a public statement, some kind of sick warning to adulterers? What was he, or she, thinking when the deed was done? Anger? Jealousy? Righteous indignation?

I felt a sudden stab of migraine and a flash of red.

_Blood, hot and thick like molasses, spilling out of the Wataru's neck, his eyes wide with terror and impotent rage. fuck yeah throttle him choke him end him make him pay_

Then, the memories were gone, as quickly as they had appeared. I stifled a groan, buried my head into my hands and slumped onto the table, silently praying that the nightmares didn't return. Sleep was precious enough to me already. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I tried to redirect my thoughts to something less morbid.

Last night, Kaijou had called. The forensic investigators had finished up their work, and I could now carry out my inspection so the Hinata household could resume watching TV. They had complained that it was receiving no reception at all, displaying only static. I arranged to meet detective Dojima after school, as he wanted to oversee it. He probably wanted to speak to me too, what with my involvement in the case and my friendship with his nephew. I was burning with curiosity as well, and was spoiling for a chance to have a look at the scene myself.

Essentially, right now, school was like a really long series of commercials before the movie.

Someone prodded me on my shoulder. I turned to regard the offender, head still resting on the top of the desk. It was Yosuke, looking remarkably recovered despite his misadventure yesterday.

"Hey Saito, could I ask a favor from you?"

I managed a "sure-why-not" shrug.

"It's about what you said about replacing that 'Trial of the Dragon' DVD. I tried what you suggested, but it's such an old movie, Junes doesn't stock it anymore. The only way to get it is to order in bulk, and it really isn't worth it. I was kinda hoping you could help me order it online for me…"

I had to relinquish my slumped position to talk properly. "Why can't you check it out yourself?"

"Erm…well, I'm kinda not allowed to use the internet right now," he dragged out slowly.

Frowning, I asked him to elaborate just what he meant, just for curiosity's sake.

"Yeeeeah…my parents caught me looking at some…stuff online."

Ah. I imagine I heard the sound of a dropped penny.

"Sorry, shouldn't have asked. Didn't occur to me you'd get caught surfing porn."

"H-Hey! Like you've never been caught before?"

"At the computer centers I used to hang out at, surfing porn is the least illegal thing you could be doing."

"Woah woah woah, hang on. What kind of things DO they get up to then?"

"Phishing, hacking, key-logging the last idiot who used a public computer in a yakuza-owned shop, stuff like that. Sometimes, for a laugh, we'll use a hacked credit card to subscribe to adult sites. So long as no one tries to get off during business hours, the bosses really didn't care."

"…geeze, that's messed up."

"Tell me about it. It's really sick having to clean up fifteen stained seats and keyboards every day. I was almost happy when the police started getting suspicious and we had to wrap it up."

"Dude! I meant the bad, criminal stuff going on! I didn't need to know about that…that other thing."

I pretended not to hear him.

"Yeah, those were fun times. Personally, I think anyone who doesn't wash their hands after doing something like that, should have a special place in hell reserved just for them." I cocked my head and asked in an innocently curious tone. "Do you wash your hands after surfing porn, Yosuke?"

"W-WHAT?!"

"One time, just for the heck of it, Toji manage to snag a UV lamp and shine it on one of the keyboards. The whole damn thing got lit up like a disco floor. The stuff was _everywhere_! On the palm rest, on the space bar, in between the buttons…I couldn't even see the key labels anymore."

Yosuke looked positively green by now. I think I just did Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura a favor, and made their son swear off porn, at least for a while.

"Worst thing was, a lot of guys liked to eat at the computer. Can you imagine that? After pawing all over those keyboards and mouse, they start shoving handfuls of chips right into their mouths. Then, like most people do, they start licking the stuff left on their fingers. The same fingers that were TOUCHING. THOSE. GUNK. COVERED. KEYBOARDS. I bet some sicko got off from watching people do that, geeze…"

"…please…stop…I don't wanna know anymore…"

I shrugged. "But anyway, yeah, I'll help you order the DVD online. Just don't expect it too soon, okay?"

The brunette half nodded, half sobbed, before beating a hasty retreat.

And just like that, my day brightened up a little.

* * *

Dressing for work was a simple matter of switching the Yasogami top for the company jacket and collecting my tool bag from my locker. Walking out the school gate, I caught Yosuke's eye, gave an evil grin, and made a big show of wiping my hands off with my pants. The brunette promptly paled and hurried off without a word. Chie raced after him, yelling something about someone owing her steak, while Souji followed leisurely behind her, shooting me a puzzled look. I just gave an innocent smile, shrugged and waved goodbye.

Dojima was waiting for me at the same place I had met him yesterday. The ambulance was gone and other than the lazily fluttering police tape, the police was nowhere to be seen today. He acknowledged me with a nod and waved me through under the barrier.

"The forensic guys have already declared the area clear, but the area is still considered a crime scene. Just focus on getting on the roof and fixing that antenna, got it Kurosawa?"

I might have nodded an affirmative, but I fully intended to satisfy my curiosity with this opportunity.

We walked up to the scene, and I felt something in my head shift into gear. It was time to see, not just look.

The antenna in question was really an array of aerials, mounted on the north-east corner of the two story Hinata residence. The tallest of them was a TV aerial, extending about a meter and a half into the air and bent halfway down. None of the other, shorter aerials showed any visible signs of stress. Glancing around, I noted that all the surrounding buildings were of similar height, this being a residential district in the countryside.

I climbed up the ladder already resting against the roof, hefting the heavy duffel of tools in one hand, observing the roof tiles for signs of human use, before realizing how stupid that was. Police investigators would have been up here recently; to me any trace the murderer might have left would be indistinguishable from those left by the police. Instead, I focused on studying the edge of the roof for signs of where a ladder might have rested. None could be found, other than the two friction scruffs left by the very ladder I was climbing.

An inspection of the array of aerials revealed no defects in the other antennas. The TV aerial, however, was a write off. Besides being bent, it was completely fried internally, all the way down to the cable connecting it to the house. I replaced both components with mechanical efficiency, not ready to make any deductions yet.

By the time I was finished, the sun was just beginning to touch a sea of rooftops.

"Detective Dojima, is the Hinata family still at home?" I asked, descending down the ladder.

"No, they're currently staying in another residence while the house is still a crime scene. Why do you ask?"

"I just have a few questions about their TV. Did they mention when it gave out? Or when was the last time they had good reception on it?"

Dojima's eyes narrowed. "Yes, they did, but I can't just reveal to you what they said under the course of a police interview. Is there any reason why you need to know?"

"It's just to help us diagnose the problem with the TV and help fix it," I replied, smoothly faking a nonchalant shrug. "It's alright, sir. I'll just ask them myself some other day."

The detective seemed to reconsider it. Really, this information was something I could easily and reasonably get anyway. There wasn't much point hiding it, but like I said, Dojima could get a little too professional some times.

"Well, I guess I can tell you this much. They said they only discovered it just a few hours after Mayumi Yamano was found. Before that, the last time it was used was by the son, Gendo Hinata, who said he was catching some sort of late night program."

"Was the reception fine then?"

"He didn't say."

There wasn't anything more I could safely ask, so I bowed and thanked him, announcing that I was finished.

* * *

Walking away, I allowed my mind to churn what I had learned.

The few clues discovered, initially led me to the conclusion that the killer must have had considerable strength to be able to carry a body up onto the roof. The body could not have been lowered down, as there were no taller buildings to do so from. The height of the antenna necessitated that the killer lift the body past chest height in order to slowly hang it on the antenna without snapping it, something impossible for someone struggling with the bulk.

That's when things stopped making sense. How had the murdered gotten to the roof? There were no signs of another ladder that had been used to access it, and I doubt the killer could have climbed out of one of the second story windows without the residents noticing.

Lastly, peripheral to all this, was the condition of the TV aerial's components. They were burned out, indicating that they had experienced a massive power surge akin to a lightning strike. However, that would have been able to arc over to the other ones and damage them as well, yet my inspection had revealed they were all in good working condition.

It's relevance to the case was suspect, but my gut told me that this was somehow connected to the way the killer had transported the body. Did the method used somehow cause the power surge? If so, how? More importantly, what was this mysterious method? Heck, with the method unknown, my first conclusion about the murderer's strength might even be invalid for I all knew! I've gotten nothing in the end—

I stopped myself. There wasn't much that could be done with such a small handful of clues. All I had was a narrow, incomplete glimpse of the crime scene; I couldn't expect to solve the crime with just that. Besides, I was no detective. None of this was my business. I grimaced, realizing the last thing I needed was people seeing me become too interested in the murder. Knowing my luck, they would take it the wrong way, invent a connection between my day job and the unusual place the body had been found, and soon I'd be hearing stories about Saito the Butcher of Inaba (He hangs his victims on antennas!).

* * *

Disgruntled that all my deductions had led me nowhere, I decided to retire to Junes for dinner. On my way there, I ran into Saki Konishi, who looked like she had just gotten off from work. She spotted me and greeted me with a smile and a wave.

"Hello, Kurosawa-san. I didn't see you with your friends."

That caught my attention. They must have gone to Junes after school, I guess. "Oh? Did you meet them at work?"

"Uhm hm," she nodded. "I saw Chie-san, Yosuke and the new student having lunch at the foodcourt just earlier today. I was wondering why Yukiko and you weren't around. Were you called away on a job?"

I was about to answer when I remembered that she was the Yasogami girl who had discovered Yamano hanging from the antenna. I didn't want to risk reminding her of bad memories by bringing up my visit to the scene.

So I shrugged and replied, "Yup, just finished some routine inspection in town. I'm on my way Junes for dinner."

"Oh, I see. It's nice knowing someone else your age is also working hard."

"Aye," I drawled in an impression of an old-man's voice. "These young 'uns don't know what it's like for us working people. Why, I can hardly remember the last time I get home before sunset!"

Konishi gave a polite laugh. Ugh, I must be getting tired if my jokes were starting to fall flat. Still, it was a successful deflection. Before I could wave off the bad joke, I was interrupted by a microphone being thrust between us. Two men, one holding the offending device, another carrying a video camera on his shoulders, shouldered me out of the way to step in front of her.

"Miss Konishi! This is Jun Nobura from MHK News! I would like to ask you some questions regarding you discovery of the body of Mayumi Yamano yesterday!"

Well, so much for my tact. Konishi was obviously unprepared, and stammered, "I-I don't want to talk about it…"

The interviewer wasn't ready to give up, and pressed on with rapid fire questions. "Could you describe the condition of the body when you first saw it? What was your reaction at the time? How long did it take for the police to respond?"

"S-sorry, I'm not ready to answer anything." She glanced at me, silently asking for help. I jerked my head down the street, indicating that she should just walk away. Konishi hesitated, before gathering her resolve and following my advice. I started to trail after her, but as she started to turn away, the reporter quickly darted in front of her, trying to cut her off.

C'mon Saki, just side step the jerk and walk on.

"Please young lady, I just need you to spare a few minutes of your time. What time was it when you found the body?"

By this point, she was probably not a little frightened, and some of it translated to anger. "I said I don't want to talk about it! I've already told you everything yesterday, so just leave me alone!" Unfortunately, they were obviously used to this, and simply ignored her exclamation in favor of maneuvering to block her escape route. Saki was an 18 year old high school girl, woefully unprepared for this compared to media personalities who were older and dealt with this on an everyday basis. To these two reporters, she was an easy target that they thought they could squeeze.

The urge to violently introduce the camera to the reporter's face was positively palpable.

Down boy.

I'm here to tilt windmills, not blow up to whole farm.

"Hey! Hey! are you a reporter?" I gripped the interviewing one by his shoulder.

He spun around in annoyance, unwilling to let go of his prey. Behind him, Saki looked at me in confusion.

"If you are, I totally got a story too man! I got REAL close to the crime scene. Like, walked all over the thing with police permission."

That piqued his interest apparently, because he seemed to consider it for a moment. For him, it was the choice of a fresh story, or a rehash of an old one. While he seemed lost in thought, I glanced past him and caught Saki's eye, signaling her to take advantage and make a break for it. Before I could see her response, the reporter had made up his mind.

"Alright then young man, who are you? What was your involvement with the case?"

I gave a dumb grin and lifted my tool bag up enthusiastically, waving it dangerously close to the, undoubtedly fragile and expensive, camera lens. The camera man yelped quietly and took a quick step back.

"I'm an antenna repairman, see? I repair antennas, y'know, antennas like the one Miss Yamano was danglin' from."

"Ah…I see. So how did you come to visit the crime scene in that capacity?"

"Oh, I got called in by my boss, Mr Kaijou, to check an antenna today. D'ya know Mr Kaijou? He's the boss of his own company, got his own army of repair man, guys like me. Mr Kaijou's a good guy, always looks out for us, especially the new ones. Pay's pretty good too, and there's lotsa holidays and stuff for us too!"

"Yes yes, but WHAT did you see there?"

"Where?"

"The crime scene." I imagine I heard the gnashing of teeth. This was proving to be more fun than expected.

"Oh, umm…" I looked to the sky, pretending to be in deep contemplation like the simpleton I was pretending to be. I spied Saki walking away briskly and turning round a corner towards Junes. I smiled, which the reporter took as me finally managing to drag up the right memory.

"Sorry man, I just remembered, I'm not supposed to be talking about it. Police confidentiality and all that, y'know. After all," My voice lowered, no longer that of a village idiot. "I wouldn't want **Detective Dojima** accusing me for interfering with a murder investigation, even if I had been **badgered** by a reporter who didn't know when 'no' meant '**no**'."

The camera ran on in silence.

"Anyhoo, sorry I can't say anything else!" I slipped back into character. "Maybe some other day huh? See ya!"

I resisted the strong temptation to skip off. Like a wise man once said regarding method acting; never go full retard.


	8. Chapter 7

I made my way to Junes and ordered a simple _donburi_, sitting down in the open-air foodcourt to enjoy my dinner. Maybe I was tired, maybe I was hungry. Maybe I was still riding the high from that little victory I had just pulled. All I knew, was that the _donburi_ tasted darn good today. I slowed down my eating pace when I noticed someone come over and sit down on the bench opposite. Peeking over the lip of the bowl, I was surprised to identify Saki Konishi just across me.

If I were being sappy and poetic, I would have described that the easy smile which graced her visage, was an uncommon, but welcome sight. It wasn't the polite one she plastered on at work, nor was it the blank one she put up to hide behind. A smile isn't just the simple motion of one's lips; it extend to an array of other dazzling, interesting expressions. Her eyes betrayed just the barest of a squint, which is what is meant when a smile is referred to as reaching one's eyes. That guarded look which used to glaze and harden them into shields was nowhere to be seen anymore. Burdened and tense shoulders were now visibly relaxed, rested easy, rising up and down to the rhythm of her deep, languid breaths.

With a start, I realized that I was staring.

Then, with an even bigger one, I realized so was she.

I gulped down the mouthful of rice I hadn't finished chewing. Surreptitiously leaning back a little, I tried to take cover behind the still upturned bowl between our faces. Fortunately, she noticed me noticing her noticing (yo dawg), and hastily backpedalled, avoiding my gaze.

"H-Hey, Saito-kun. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Actually, I think I mentioned eating at Junes earlier."

"Eh? Oh, yes, I guess you did, didn't you…"

I resisted the urge to slap my forehead. The words had spilled out reflexively, before I could even think. Smooth going Romeo, what were you trying to imply there? That she knew and she was waiting for you to come?

Oh. No. Uh uh. No way.

"I, uh, think those two should be gone by now. You don't have to worry about running into them on your way back." I hastily tried to change the subject.

"It's okay," she fidgeted. "I've called someone to come pick me up. He should be here soon."

With that, I desperately tried to recover.

"Oh?" I gave a wicked grin. "And here I was hoping to offer to escort you. It's a pity I'm now superfluous to requirements."

Police turn me into a smartarse. Awkward situations with girls turn me into an outrageous flirt.

"Hahaha!" Saki laughed in response, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "Well, I guess…if you still want to, there's still time for me to make a call…"

Eeep! Won't fold! All in, all in!

I forced my grin even wider. "Okay, make it then," I taunted.

Saki gaped, then blinked, clamping her mouth shut. I pretended that that wasn't a blush on her face, but a trick of the light. Just rouge. Finally, she folded, turning away once again. I chuckled, retreated and tried to disguise my nerves by concentrating on the rest of my meal.

We spent a while like that, her watching me eat, a silence hanging between us that begged to be broken. Surprisingly enough, Saki was the one to do it again.

"I guess…that makes it the second time you've helped me out of a tight spot," she ventured. "Thank you, Saito-kun."

"Oh?" I dragged up the relevant memory. "Are you referring to the time Chie asked you about your job?" She nodded in response. Instinctively, I waved it off. "Nah, it's nothing. I was just trying to avoid an awkward situation."

"You took it on yourself to help me out," she insisted gently. "Not many people would have taken the trouble to do that. Even less could have done it so calmly. And in the end, _you_ were the one to step up to the stage both times."

My gift of the gab failed me.

"I…guess you're welcome, _senpai_."

She laughed, saying, "C'mon Saito, we might not be the same year, but I do know we're the same age. You can drop the _senpai-kohai_ thing around me."

I chuckled and scratched the back of my head. "Well, if you know about something like my age, I guess you must know about the stories about me too, huh?"

"Oh, you mean the ones about you being a teenage boy toy?"

"Yea—what? No! Where did THAT come from?"

How the hell had delinquent mutate into a freaking gigolo?

"I heard it from Aoi, who heard from Ritsu, who said her friend swears it's true. That you were arrested for cheating money from seventeen different_ obasans_ in Tokyo."

I reacted in mute horror. Offense, disgust and outraged denial fought for dominance with amusement and a small measure of perverse pride. Seventeen victims at once? I used to be good, but never THAT good. Saki, seeing my reaction, started to show some well-founded doubts, but carried on hesitantly anyway.

"Um…a lot of my friends thought it was true. I mean, they say it explains how you got close to Amagi-san and Satonaka-san so easily; because you had a lot of experience…seducing girls. A-and when you opened up around them and started acting all flirty…well, people just thought it made sense." Saki looked uncomfortable. Which was nothing compared to the increasing levels of mortification I was experiencing.

"So wait, you're trying to say, that the whole school thinks I'm some sort of pretty boy?" I clarified incredulously.

Saki seemed evasively. "Well…not the whole school. Maybe just…half?"

Half? What does she mean by—

Oh. **Hell** no.

I slumped back, groaning and rubbing my face with both my hands. For one crazy moment guaranteed never to repeat itself, I sincerely wished more students had believed Morooka's vicious stories instead.

Saki saw my distress, and hurried to reassure me. "Don't take it the wrong way, Saito! I don't think anyone REALLY believes the stories. Maybe it's just their way of saying you have good looks—"

"Oh. Are you trying to say I have good looks, S-a-k-i-chan?"

She froze. No denying it now, there was definitely a blush on her face. My sudden reversal, the intimate form of address, the return of that wicked grin…I didn't always know what I was doing, but I could tell I was hitting all the right notes somehow.

Slowly, deliberately, I let the words roll off my tongue with delicious relish.

"I would like to deny such rumors, but as is always said; no smoke without fire. They say I, what was it, 'had experience seducing girls'?"

I started leaning towards her.

"Well, I'm not one for boasting."

Bringing myself_—_

"So in the interest of an unbiased opinion,"

So achingly close_—_

"I must ask someone on the receiving end."

Face to face, till all that separated us was the distance of a whisper.

"How true do you think that rumor is? S-a-k-i-chan."

I had to steel myself to stare into her wide eyes (brown, hazel, diluted pupils); we were too close for me to see the rest of her face. I was painfully aware of my invasion into her space. I was painfully aware of the dangerously intimate distance I had just drawn between us. I was painfully aware that she had held her breath, just as I had. I was dreadfully, terrifyingly, petrifyingly aware of that intoxicating scent, that heady mix of faded make-up, hair shampoo and rich, invisible pheromones.

Oh Christ-on-fire-jumping-on-a-pogo-stick, what was I doing? I just wrote a check my ass can't cash. Saki, please, I beg you, don't be an idiot like I was. Don't lean in. Don't close that final gap. Don't—

Eeep.

A distinctly un-accidental cough erupted besides us. We jolted from our seats, separating with a haste motivated by embarrassment, and the thick adrenaline still coursing through our veins. Standing by our table was the junior detective, Tohru Adachi. Of course, he must have been the person Saki called to walk her back. She was important as a police witness after all. My flustered mind barely registered his piercing gaze, passing over him to focus on Saki instead. Blush covered all over her face now. She dodged both our gazes, staring straight down at her lap instead. Had she really—

She abruptly stood up from her seat and declared in a high-pitched voice, "Detective Adachi, you're here! I-I-I better be on my way. Mum and Dad will be worried if I stay out too late. I-I should hurry home." She clumsily slung her bag over her shoulder before taking a few hurried steps towards the exit. Then, she stopped, and turned back one final time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Saito-kun?"

I nodded, managing to return her nervous smile with one of my own, and waved goodbye. Relieved, she spun back and walked away, disappearing out of view with Detective Adachi.

* * *

The rest of my soda went down in one gulp. It wasn't beer, but the action conjured up the familiar memories which sort of helped. A lungful of slow, deep breaths later, and my heart was calm and my head was clear, allowing me the opportunity to dissect the last ten minutes.

Saki had the makings of a kindred spirit. Both of us were willing to do what was needed to survive, damn what the rest of the world thought. But unlike me, she possessed that sacrificial quality that allowed her to do so without blaming others. Especially her family, the ones who reserved the most vicious and treacherous things to say. I've heard what they thought about her when I was at their liquor stall on business. The father, blinded by pride, ashamed that she was consorting with the "enemy". The mother, blinkered by fools, betraying her daughter to agree with the gossips of "friends". My disgust and disbelief was only equaled by my empathy and respect for the girl.

But was I interested? Was I really attracted to her? Did I really feel…affection for her? Those small gestures she was so grateful for aside, I hadn't done much, not really. So why that sudden, crazy, all-or-nothing stunt just now?

Was that what had motivated me? A selfish desire for a trophy? A need to indulge in that addictive tension, in that eternal moment when Saki's face was just inches from mine? That sweet rush when I knew my gamble had paid off, as she began to lean forward to close that final gap?

I ran my hands through my hair in misery and groaned. I felt like a right bastard. It sickened me, what I had done. Leading Saki on. This was exactly what I had promised to change when they sent me to Inaba. No more lies, no more manipulations. But here I stood again, playing the old games on an honest girl who was, apparently, sweet on me.

I sullenly returned my dinner tray and walked the long way home. Regret and guilt coiled tightly around my thoughts, before coalescing into a hard marble of resolve. Tomorrow, I would have to tell her somehow. No more lies. No more deceit.


End file.
